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U III 1.6 






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S'A l^^'^^t 
























Copyright, iSS2, 

By beloen brothers. 










I'll II in mil III 



By J. Howard ?lunur, M.A. 


By Rev. A. Kemp, LL.IJ, and Principal Grant, D.D. 


By G. Mercer Adam. 




By J. Howard Hunter, M.A, 

By Principal Grant, D.D., and Miss A. M. Machar 

By J. Howard Hh. -, M.A. 


By J. G. A. Creigliton, B.A. 






By Chas. G O. Roberts, M.A. 

By Re\ A, ^'urray and Mrs. A. Simpson. 

By P-v. R. Murray and J. McLennan, B.A, 

By Rev. K. .Murray. 

By Principal Grant. D.D, 




. 655 


. 789 



View from run Dundas Mountain 

Chapter Illustration 

Thk Crkiht River . . . 

Bv THE Lake Shore 

Market Day, Hamilton . . 

BuRLiNcTON Canal ; Pier End Light 

Great Western Railway Station, Hamilton 

Drinking Fountain in the Core 

Hamilton and Burlington Hav, from the 


Dundas Valley , ^ j ' 

The Old Mohawk Church ' . . 
Wehsier's Fails . . , , '_ 
LoRNE Bridge, Brantford ,'.' , 

Collegiate Institute, Brantford 
Railroad Bridge, Paris .... 
New Preshyterian Church, Galt 
GUELPH , , . „ ;, ' ; 

On River Speed 

Islet Rock. Falls of Elora 

A PA.ST0RAL Hill-Side— Grand River Valley 

Watch-tower Rock, Irvine River 

Lover's Leap, Elora 

Meeting of the Waters— Junction of Grand 
AND Irvine Rivers, Elora 

Echo Cave, Irvine River 

The Bridge, Irvine River, Elora 

Elm Vista, Grand River, Elora 

Duck Shooting, Long Point 

Clui! House . . 

Unlicensed Sportsmen 


Riding out a Sou'wester under lee of Long 


A Storm on Lake Erie .... 

A Roadside Sketch ... 

Threshing ny Horse-Powf.r 

On THE Thames ^^,.„^ 

New St. Paul's Church, Woodstock 

A Farm on the Oxford Slope 

The Watering Place 








Woodland Flowers .... 


The Thames Valley below London 

Victoria Park, London 

Richmond Street, London 

St. Thomas from Kettle Creek Brilge 

Port Stanley 

Old Fort near Amherstburo . 
Old Windmii.i.l— Sandwich 
Railway Ferry— Amherstburg 
Catawba Vineyard— PelSe Island . 
Riverside Granaries . 

A Forest Pathway 


Windsor, from deck of Transfer Steamer 

Where Tecumseh stood at Bay 

Looking up the Thames, Chatham 

A Tow ON Lake St. Clair 

The St. Clair Canal 

Ci.un House, St. Clair Flats 

Along the St. Clair Flats 


Point Edwaph— mouth St. Clair River 

Shipping on Lake Huron .... 

Oil Derricks, Petrolfa .... 


Carrying t,:e Oil 

.L Tanks 

A Trout pool on the Saugeen 
Chapter Illustr.\tion 

In the Park, Goderich j^g 


The Goderich Light-House 
Salt Works on Lake Huron 

Salt Workers 

Wayside Flowers .... 

At Kincardine 

Evening at Southampton 

A Fishing Station on Lake Huron 

Setting the Net .... 

With the Fishermen on Lake Huron 

Preparing Fish for Market 

Owen Sound 







• 533 

• $37 

• $39 

• • $39 

■ $40 
Facing 543 



















OWEN Sound, Lookinc; up tiik IIariiour 570 Kai.i.s 571 

Amonu the Mountains near Owen Sounu , 573 

Wood Violets and fringed Gentian, . . 574 
KucENiA Kai.i.s, anij a glimpse of Georgian 

Bay 575 

Tail Piece 578 

Muskoka Lake F,uiiig 579 

Lake Couchicing (Chapter Illustration) 579 

Sketches at Meaford 583 

CoLi.iNc.wooi) Hardour 584 

In the iNsiDF, Channel, Georgian Bay 589 

Parry Sound V'illaoe, fro.m thk. Harbour 590 

Indian Carrying Berries to NL\rki:t 591 
Parry Sound, from the Heights near Parry 

SouNiv Village .... /uniiix 593 

Town Hall and Market, Barrie . • • 595 

Scenes aiiout Lakf, Simcoe . . • • 597 

Penefanguishene— Midland .... 598 

Steamboat Landing, Orii.lia .... 599 

Orillia from "the Narrows" . . . 602 

Entering Indian River, Lake Rosseau . 603 

South Muskoka Falls 605 

At the Landing, Rosseau .... 607 

Lake Joseph 610 

Stage Road— Rosseau to Parry Sound 611 

Muskoka Scenery 613 

A Bush Fire By Night 617 

Tail Piece 620 

The Harbour Mouth, Cobourg . Facing 621 

Chapter Illu.stration 621 

Whitby, from Ontario Ladies' College 622 

HARVF.STIN(i near OSHAWA .... 626 

Port Perry, from ScuaoG Island . . . 638 


Making Port Hope in a Storm . . . 630 

A Glimpse of Port Hope 631 

Railway Viaduct, Port Hope .... 634 

On THE Beach, Cobourg 635 

Peterborough 636 

Stony Lake, near Peterborough . . .637 

Lindsay 638 

Watching for Deer 639 

Entrance to Iron Ore Mines, Madoc . . 643 
Madoc and Iron Ore Mines . . .645 

A View in Belleville 646 

Charles Street, Belleville .... 648 


Barley Harvest . 649 

PicioN 653 

Lake of the Mountain 653 

Bay of Quinte, from above Stone Mills 

/■'iiciiiiL,' 655 

Lake of tjii. Isles, Thousand Islands 655 


Among the Thousand Islands . . . 659 
Head of c;ri'.nadier and Sport Island, and 

NEAR Alexandria Bay .... 663 

A Nook . .' 663 


The Riverside, Brockville .... 667 

Old LicHT-HotsE, Prescott .... 668 

Long Sault Rapids, from the Canal . . 669 

Running the Lachine Rapids .... 670 

lioi.TON Pass Faciiii; 675 

rouge.mont and valley (chapter 675 

Belceil Mountain, from Richelieu River 677 

Cha.mbi.y— th:; old Fort and Ci:a.\ibi,y Rapids 681 

Bastion jf Fort 681 

Monument to De Salaiierry . . . .681 

Old Church at Iberville .... 68a 

St. Johns 683 

Owls Head, -ro.m Mountain House . . 685 

Owls Head, FROM Lake Me.mphremagog Facing 685 

Mount Elephantis 686 

Mount Orford 687 

Lake Me.mphre.magog, from Owls Head 689 
Lake Massawippi and Valley .691 

Sherbrooke 693 

Commercial Street 693 

Spring Ferns 695 

Tail Piece 696 

Forest Stream and Timber Slide Facing 697 

Home of the Pitcher Plant (Chapter Illus.) 697 

Cap Tourmente 700 

Isle aux Coudres, and the St. Lawrence, 

FRCM Les Eboulements . . . .701 

Art and Nature 704 

Baie St. Paul 705 

Murray Bay 709 

Entrance to Saguenay River . . . 713 

Tadoussac 715 

Cape Trinity 716 

Under Cape Trinity 718 

Ha-Ha Bay 723 





RiVIERt. Dll LOUl' .... 

TllKOUlJH riiK Frk.nch Coijntry 
TiiK Uay ok Gasi'e .... 

On the IIeacii at PERCfe . 
In or- Hah .... 


Tail I'ikce 

Grand Kai.i.s, Sr. John Rivir . /■uaiii; 

St. John, from I' (Chapter 

Passama(M'<>i">v Hay 

St. Joii.v— Hack of IlARiiorR, Low Tide 

St. Andrfav.s amd Mr. Ciiamcook 

Wharf ap St. Andrews .... 

Friar's Head, Campoiiei.lo Island 

Beacon Lioht, St. John, at I-ow and Hioh 


Market Slip, St. John, at Low Tide 
Salmon Weirs, Sr. John Harbour 
Su.sPENsioN Hridoe, St. John, at Low Tide 
Frederic roN, from ieie Rivf.k 
A View in Fredericion .... 


Plaster Rocks, Tobique River 
Polino Up AM) pADiii.iNO Down 

On the ToiiiyuE 

St. John River, near Newiuiry Junction 
E.MPTYiNG Salmon Neis hv 
Indians Makinc. Tokchf.s .... 
Little ToiiKn"'. Lake .... 

Making New Pole for Canoe . 
Striim'INO or Harkin(; a Trek for Torches 
Goroe iiEi.ow Grand Falls, St. John River 
Spearing Salmon by Night on the Re.sti- 


On the Bay Chaleurs , , , , 

Restigouche River, from Prospect Hill 

River Front, Chatham 

Looking Up South-west Miramichi 

Tail Piece 

Grand Pr^ and Basin of Minas, from Wolf- 

viLLE Facing 

Chapter Illustration 

Annapolis, from the Old Fort 

Digby Harbour and Gut 

Bear River 

fagt l'aj;i- 

725 llAllF.vX, FROM CriADEI 800 

727 MEN-o'-WAR, llAIIFAX HARIlorK . . ioj 

729 LooKiN<; Up (;forgi- Sireei, Halifax 807 

730 Cape, from Haxier's Hakikh'r /Ucing 809 

731 Halifax, from York REDouni . 810 

732 Gate ok Citaiiei , and Old c:ii]ck I'ower , 811 

735 I-'ISMERMEN LANDINC. IN A ("lAI.E . , , 8I3 

739 Spring Heaiii y, SaN(;uinauia, and Uog-Tooth 

740 \'IOI.EI 814 

741 Cues PER .815 

741 Marine Slip and Docks, Varmoutii , . 819 

742 Drying Codfish 821 

743 In nil- Annapolis X'ai.ley 823 

74A Shipping Apples 10 I'.ngland .... 823 

747 Dvke Lands 824 

749 Valley of the Gaspereau . . 825 

MofTii OF THE Gaspereau and Grand PRfe 827 

751 Cape Hi.o.mihon, Minas Basin , , , . , 829 

75:; Low Tide, Windsor ....>. 831 

755 Bridges at Windsor 83} 

757 I'icTou 839 

758 Acadia Mines . .< . , , , . 839 

759 New Glasgow , , , , , 841 
761 Kntering Aniigonish . . .842 
763 On riiK Taniramar Marshes . . . 845 
765 NoRiii Sidney , ■, . .■ . .■ . 846 
769 MiNiN<; Scenes -Caledonian Mines ,: , 848 

772 LOUISIIURG . . . . . , ■ , 850 

773 Lake Cai alone . . . . . ,' v 851 

774 There He Is Fariih^' 853 

775 ClIARLOTTElOWN (CHAPTER ll.l.US.) . . . 853 

776 FRf)M PicTOU TO Georgetown . . . 854 

777 Crossing Noriiumiieriand Sirait, from 

778 Cape Tormeniine id Cape Traverse 855 
Mackerel ITshing 856 

781 Lobster Canning 859 

782 Digging Mussel Mud 861 

783 Pastoral Scenes . . ... . .862 

786 .Acadian Giri 864 

787 Sl'MMERSIDE 865 

788 \ Canon on iiie IIomaihco . . Facing 867 
Waggon Road on ihe Fraser (Chai>tkr (Illus.) 867 

789 EsQUiMAi.T Harbour 871 

789 Port Moody— Vessel containing first Ship- 

793 MENT OF Canada Pacific R. R. Iron . 874 

794 On THE North Tholipson River . .875 
797 Yale 879 








T I'",. WING I'oroiuo, ami pi-occcdint,^ west ward in scanli of tlic ])i(tiircsque, wc take 
^-^ llic Credit X'alU.'y Railroad for the " I'Orks of the Credit." In little more; than 
two hours Ironi 'roronio, and when within a h.alfdiour of ( )rangcvilie, we lind ourselves 
nestlint; in the hosoiii of the Caledon 11 ills. "The I-'orks" would he niort: correctly 
nai^ied "The /'roiii^s of the Credit." Tht: westerly |'ron>^ jjierces a deep and romantic 
ravine between vertical walls of red and s^ray samlstone. Parallel to the eastern prong, 
but receding from the stream, rise undulatins; hills of the same formation. Ihe sand- 
stone is com|)act, uniform and free from impurities; it yields to the chisel and the' lathe 
beautiful architectural and decorative effects. Ouarrymen are now merrily at work. 

Their ringing steel and powder-blasts are frequently heard; and with this mimicry of 
(56) 441 



war tlicy affrij^lu tlie yentk- cclioiis tliat slocp amony tliosc (juiet and romantic glens. 
A littlf distance up the left branch of the Credit we are challanj;«d by a high sentry- 
tower,— "the Devil's Pulpit," it is locally named. Ascending this we gain a commanding 
view of the Valley of the Credit ; and aw towartls the east we range with our eyes 
the wooded height of land that separates tue fountains of the Credit from those of 
the Humber. The sweet, cold, shadowy waters of the Credit have always been the 
very paradise of fish. The hcad.vaters swarm with speckled trout. If we are 
ambitious of larger prey we must follow the river below the Fork through its long, 
quiet stretches, pa.ssing Hrampton, the County seat, with its agricultural activities and 
industries. After leaving Streetsville with its humming looms, the fishing may become 
more serious and e.xciting : — four-poundc. black bass, ami ninopounder pike. Still 
descending the riv» r, we strike Governor Simcoe's old military highway, Dumlas Street, 
and we see, hard by, llie old Indian burying-place, where rest with their weapons of 
the chase beside tluin some of tin- keenest sportsmen the- world has ever bred. The 
Indian villag'' lias now vanished, but here was once the focus of western .Salmon- 
fishing. Here within the frame of the Credit woods the torches of the fire-fishers 
nightly lit up such pictures as Paul Kane canv^ from Toronto to preserve on his 
canvas. But one day the Mississagas sold their heritage and departed ; and curiously 
enough, with tiie disappearance of the Indians, disappeared also suddenly and forever 
the salmon which the Great Spirit had so bountifully provided for his poor, improvi- 
dent children. 

Leaving Port Credit, we coast along the shore, just glancing wistfully as we pass 
at Oakville and its luscious strawberry-meads. Were we to huul and taste of " that 
enchanted stem " we should, like the lotus-eaters, abide there all summer. Many do so. 

Bearing westward we reach the of the Lake, the " Pond ilu Lac," which it 
was long the dream and ambition of l""rench explorers to reach. The discovery of 
Burlington Bay was reserved for La .Salle in this wise. Champlain's inroad into the 
lair of the Irotjuois tiger had forever closed to him the exploration of Lake Ontario, 
and thus Lake Simcoe and Georgian Bay and Lake Huron had all been repeatedly 
visited long before Ontario had been explored. In 1669 the fearless spirit of La Salle 
overleaped all barriers, and dasiiing into this inland sea with a Hotilla ot seven canoes 
he explored it to the very head. Quoth the Ancient Mariner; 

"The fair breeze blew, the white foam Hew, 
The furrow followed free ; 
We were the first that ever burst 
Into that silent sea." 

Coasting along the south shore of what he named " Lake Frontenac," La Salle 
discovered the mouth of the Niagara and, first of all Europeans, he iieard the awful 




voicL' of the cataract. Thence; aloii^ tlie heantifiil woodlaiitls of Lincoln and VVcnt- 
wortli, with views (Msclosed. now of descendinij streams, and ajjaiii of peaceful hayous 
frinjred with cedars and inlaid with while and jjold pond-lilics. At lenj,ah a sylvan lake 
of enchanting beauty was reached. Without the aid of the I,ij,du House and. Canal 
that MOW j,Mve tlu; larjjest steamers easy entrance to iUirlington Hay, La Salle led his 
tlolilla within its sh(!lterinjf arms. It was the 24tli of September, 1669. The dense 
underwood up the hill-sides, and the stately forests coverinj,' the heij,dits, formed an 
amphitheatre of tlu- richest foliajfe. which was already kindling,' with the jrold and 
crimson tires <if the Canadian autumn. While restinjj here. La Salle was astonished to 
learn from tin- natives that another I-'rcnth explorer had just reached a village on the 
(irand River beyond. This proved to be no less a personage than Joliet— luTeafter 
to become La Salle's victorious rival in the race for the finding of the Mississippi. 
Could a more picturesque incident be conceived tiian the meeting of these young 
men who were presently to b"come so famous? Joliet e.xplained that he had been 
sent by the Intendant Talon to discover certain rumored copper-mines in the North- 
west ; the Jesuit missionaries Marquette and Dablon had volunteered to accompany 
him. Stopped by a saii/f in their upward jirogress, the missionaries iiad remained to 
found the Mission of .St. NLirie. Joliet returned, but witli an ab.sorbing passion for 
adventure, he selected for his return an unexplored route, which added to the maps 
of New France our western peninsula of Ontario. Joliet discovered the river and lake 
which have since been used to commemorate the mild military achievements of 
General St. Clair; he then explored a strait (Detroit) that gave the young explorer 
entry into a vast lake (Erie), hitherto unseen of white men. Coasting along the 
Canadian shore of Lake Erie, he tliscovered and ascended the Grand River, and he 
was now standing near the site of the future Mohawk Church, showing La Salle the 
first map of Peninsular Ontario ! 

A century and more passed over. New France had been cut adrift by Old France. 
Joliet's maps of the Lakes and of the Mississippi, which were designed to gratify the 
Gravd Afonarqitc, had supplied Edmund Burke with arguments on the question of the 
Pennsylvania boundary. Then came the disruption of the .American Colonies and the 
influx of the Loyalists into Canada. In the vanguard of the refugees arrived Robert 
Land in 1778. His was a romantic story, but too long to tell. He selected the Head 
of the Lake rather for the game and the scenery than for the fertility of the soil. 
His first acre was ploughed with a hoe, sowed with a bushel of wheat, and harrowed 
with the leafy bough of a tree. I'or years he was his own miller, bruising the wheat 
into coarse meal. Good news came one day that a French Canadian had " enterprised " 
a mill at. Ancaster. So, when Land's next grain was threshed out with the flail, he 
strapped a sack of wheat to his back and toiled up the mountain footpath seven miles, 
awaited his turn at the log grist-mill of Jean Jacques Rousseaux and then joyously 



















' '■- 


■ f- 














di'scended the mountain carryini^r a sack of Hour liij^lucr l)y liu: inilk-r's titlu-. Land's 
homestead stood on the south-east coiner of W'iUiam and Barton Streets and liis farm 
covered three hundred acres of the eastern part of Hamilton. Otlier hard\ yeomen 
took u|) farms beside him. Tiie surnames of tJi" ])ioneers are preserved in IIuLjiison 
Street, [ackson Street, I-"cri,nison .\venue, etc., \\\<\ their Christian names survixc in 
James Street. |ohn Street, Koi)ert Street, and liu: rc.'st. Idle quiet fields where these 
yeomen so proudly took a straiLjht furrow with their new Ancaster ploughs, liave since 
yielded a harvest ot commercial activities and mc'chanical industries. idu' i^entle soimds 
of the countrv are succeeded by the shrieks of rushing locomotives and steamboats; by 
the thud of the steam-hammer, the roar of foundries and L;lass-furnaces ; the whir of 
the countless pulleys that minister to th(' workers in wood, iron, brass, copi)er, zinc, tin 
and silver. 

Parallel to the present beach, but away at the farther end of l^urlinijjton Ha), is 
an historic terrace of " contjlomerate," or natural coticrete. it re|)resents the ancient 
lake-floor, th(V.::di now lifted a hundrc^d feet al)ove the w.iter. in iSi; the tide of 
in\asion swe|)t over the western l'ro\ince up to tlie \('r\' loot of iiurliui^ton I IciL^lus. 
It was in those anxious days that i [.imilion was born. i'lic I ieiL,dits were not then 
dee|)ly (;,\cavate'd to recei\(,' a railroad, nor were the\' pierted i)\- a canal. Ihe only 
access was o\er an isthmus defended l)y field-works. On one side, ;i stone miglit 
lia\'e been dropped a hundred feet sheer into Bin-]inq;ton Ha)' ; on the other siile, into 
tlie deep marsh which iiatl alread\' acquired the nickname of " Coote's i'aratiise." 
The forlime o*" Upper Canada turned on tlie possession of this liili. ilere ("lenerai 
Vincent found a safe retreat when forced to withdraw from the Niagara frontier. It 
was from tliis e\ry that Harve\' swooped down upon the American camp at .Stonv 
Creek, and I''itz<fibhon dashed upon the retreatinij invaders at Bea\-er Dam. A 
dangerous naval demonstration was maile against tlie ileighls, but 't ignominiously 
failed. So the summer of i8i_; passed iioiiefully awa\. i?ut the October winds 
brougiit from Moravian town the low moaning of a grave disaster, and then i'roctor 
found in Burlington Heights a w(dcome refuge. 

The massing of men and military storeys during the wai" no doubt prompted tiic 
formation of a permanent settlement. In iSi;,. (ieorge llamiUon laid out his farm in 
village lots, init the peace of (ihent came, and the stir and bustle on l^urlington Bay 
expired with the watch-fires on its Heights. Hamiltou had a future, but she must bide 
her time. Ancaster had taken an early and vigorous start : then Dundas had sprimg 
wyi. a still more dangerous rival. 'i"he cutting of Burlington Canal in 1X24-5 opened 
communication with i-ake Ontario and secured to Hamilton invaluable geographical 
advantages. The year i8;,2 was to test whether Hamilton was simply •'ambitious," or 
possessed the qualities that justify ambition. One awfid night in the simimer, a gaiml 
Asiatic stalked into the; gaol, without undoing i)olt or bar, and served writs of Habeas 



Ri-''^"^ *-":•"- V^V 

Corpus that \vni;ld brook no ;/ 
cl('la\'. W'licii inoniinL;' broke, L 
it was clear to the lownsincn 

tlial c'liolcra was within tlicir borders. Tiic gaoler was himself hurried away : then 
tlie magistrates set free the' sur\i\in^- j)risoiu"rs, except one who was alread)' witliin the 
shadow of the i^ibbet. All summe'r loni^' this dreailful i^resence stalked up and down 
the streets, eiiteriuij^ the houses or peerinij^ in at the windows ; but with the coming of 
the blessed frost, he disappearetl. The pestilence barely gone, the midnight sk)-, one 
night in November, was suddenh' lit \\\i as bright as noontide, and Hurlington Bay 
seen from afar gleamed like burnisheil gold. 15efore the llrt; coulil be subdued, many 
of Hamilton's bt^st buildings were shapeless ruins. These calamities of 1832 might 
\yv\\ have disheartened a \nung town, !)ut within a few months Hamilton had not only 
r(;co\cred lost ground, but had planned a system of markets, and liad provided for 
wick'r streets and a ixilice |)atrol. I'"ire-engines were procured and great public wells 
were sunk. .As in the towns of Old luigland and of New England, the town-pumps 
were long the centre of gossip and became the bill-boards for official notice.s. The 
Fountain in the (iore marks the site of the last survivor of those garrulous old town- 

pumps, from which Hawthorne has drawn so delightful a "Rill' 
1 ales. o - — — • — - 




In the early days. Allan McNab was the leading s|Mrit in every stirring incident. 
He was the foremf)st representative of the Ciore District in Parliament. When cholera 












invaded the gaol, it was Mr. McNab who released the surviving prisoners and 
assumed tiie responsibility. When the conllagration of Novenii)er ijroke out, it must 
needs begin in Mr. McNab's building. .\t the outbreak of our domestic "unpleasantness" 
in i-S^-, Colonel tlie Hon. Allan McNab was Speaker of the House of Assembly, and 
Colonel iMtzgibbon (whom we met at Bea\er Dam) was Clerk. Within thirty minutes 
after receiving a despatch from .Sir Francis Head's courier, McNab was mustering 
the militia, and within three hours he was steaming away for Toronto in command of 
"The Men of Gore." On the morning following his arrival, he led the chargt,' up 
Yonge Street tiiat disperseil the "rebels." He organized the llotilla on the Niagara 
River which, under Captain iJrew's dashing command, cut out tiie Caroline, and sent 
her blazing over the I'^alls. 

One ot the great thoroughfares of Hamilton commemorates .Sir Allan's long 
services to his atlopted city ; and numerous minor streets serve by their names to indi- 
cate h(-)w closely the fortunes of Hamilton have jjeen identified with liis romantic 
career. McNab Street runs the whole depth of the cit\' from the Mountain to tiie 
Ba\', and midway it passes the Market. L.ess than a centur)' ago the .Market .Square 





was densely over<i;ro\vn with slirubs and was a not{;iI covi;rt for wolves, so that even then 
there was an artivt: niarkci for v(;nison. Here are now asseinbl^tl, under the vigilant 
eye of the Cit\- llall, the tem|)tinjr products of tiie famous (iore and Niagara Districts. 
Returning into McNah Stre(;t and sauntering towartls the Ba)', if we glance in upon 
the streets which branch off from the JMisy thoroughfare, by the time we reach the 
water we hav(' in the names of the streets read Sir Allan's autobiography in brief — the 
names of tlu^ friends, military and ])olitical, by whose aid he had risen. 

Then Lochearne Street, Ijranching off Dundurn Street, reminds us that Sir Allan 
had in memory his grandfather's seat on Lochearne in Perthshire when he named 
Dunduni Castle. I'^rom this baronial eyr)' on tiie Heights the old eagle in his later 
days wouUl come out into the sun, and, looking down upon the young city, would 
plume himself upon its growth and prosperity. Certainly the Great Western Railway 
which tluuidereu by and shook the cliff beneath his feet was won for Hamilton chiefly 
by Sir Allan's diplomacy and persistence. Hamillon has since, under the advice of 
sagacious journalists, strelciud out her arms to Lake Krie, and Lake Huron, and 
Georgian i?ay, and lias grap[)led those commercial allies to her with "hooks of steel"; 
but tlu; foundation of this far-seeing railroad policy was laid in the Great W^estern 
Railway, whicli first ga\(! llamikon iur commercial preeminence o\er Dundas and 
other rivals. 

Hamilton is nobly endowed, not alone for commerce, but for grand scenic effects. 
The high escarpment of the Niagara formation, over which the great cataract takes its 
plunge, closely follows the shore of Lake Ontario from the Falls to the edge of 
Burlington Bay. Here it suddenly swi'cps bark from the lake in a deep curve, forming 
a mag.iiriceiit amphitiu-;t.tre, and leaving at its base a broad stage gently sloping towards 
Burlington Bay. .\ liner natural site for a great city could scarcely be imagined. 
TIkm! tile irregular plan of the early xillagt; has liecn most happily turned to the best 
artistic effect, (jeorge Hamilton opeiu-d a straight thoroughfare east and west, called it 
ALiin .Stre<;t, and aiti'inpteil to make his \illage crystallize in regular blocks along this 
threatl. .\n older nucleus, however, <!xisted In the Gore, or triviiiiii, towards which 
converged King .Street, James .Street, and the York ( Toronto) Road, now York Street. 
I'ortunately the crystallizing forces of the village were stronger than its founder and 
first lawgiver: an air-space was secured to the future city. The Gore is one of the 
most striking and delightful features in Hamilton : it is a truly refreshing surprise to 
find a beautiful public garden in the ver\- heart of the business part of the city. 
This triangular inc losiire is laid out in parterres of rich flowers and foliage plants ; 
a noble fountain diffuses a grateful coolness, and restores to this changed landscape the 
old music of the running brooks that once used here to sing merrily on their course to 
the Bay. A graceful drinking-foimlain invites the thirsty wayfarer; and when the city 
IS cii Ji-tc and the lamps of the Gore are all lit u|), one given to musing recalls his 



early readings of Baghdad and the 
Gardens of the Khahfs. It was 
surely a happy inspiration to thus 
soften the austerity of business, to 
mellow the dryness of finance, by 
the gentle, refreshing inlluence of 
fountains and flowers ! Those nier- 
chantii and manufacturers and bank- 
ers and lawyers that look out 
on such scenes must consciously 
or unconsciously be elevated in their tastes. Such influences were deeply considered 
and carefully provided in the old Greek cities, but our minds are only just beginning 
to recognize these powerful, if silent, forces. Now mark the buildings, — especially the 




llie spur lliat ihe clear spirit ilotli raise 

To scorn dclijjlits uiul live lal)orious days." 

Diindas was the most dangerous rival of Hamilton in the race for commercial 
preeminence. But Ancaster was still earlier in the field, and at one time was the 
centre of commerce, manufactures, and postal communication for the whole district. 
In his pedestrian tours through the Western Peninsula, Governor Simcoe would extend 
his already prolonged march in order to enjoy the cheer and the bright ingle-side of 
his Ancaster inn. As the fruit of Simcoe's tours, we have the great military highway 
which he drew and intended to open from Pointe au Baudet on the St. Lawrence, 
through Kingston, York (Toronto), the Head of the Lake ( Dundas), Oxford (Wood- 
stock), London, and so to the River Detroit. This great road he named " Dundas 




newer buildings, — surrounding or neighi)ouring on the Gore. Every citizen in this 
neighbourhood seems to feel the sentiment noblesse oblige : our buildings must be 
worthy of the place. This artistic sentiment is clearly seen in such buildings as the 
new offices of the Hamilton IVovident and Loan Society and those of the Canada Life 
Assurance Company. And the feeling has inoculated the County Council, who have 
joined hands with the city and erected in Prince's .S(juare a Court House, which does 
signal honour to both corporations. The Educational Institutions of Hamilton have 
always been among its chief glories. The Public system of schools commences with 
numerous, well-equipped Ward Schools, and is crowned by a Collegiate Institute, which 
is the largest organization of the kind in the Province. There is a Young Ladies' 
College, conducted under the auspices of the Wesleyan Church, and an extensive 
system of Roman Catholic Separate Schools. 

Hamilton is tiie seat of two Bishops' Sees, — the Anglican Bishop of Niagara, and 
the Catholic Bishop of Hamilton. The 'ofty cathedrals and churches lead up the eye 
as well as the mind above the smoking steeples of industry. The merchants have 
built for themselves princely homes on the terraces of the Mountain. Then, looking 
down upon all from the mountain-brow, and piteously gazing out on a landscape of 
unsurpassed beauty, is a vast Asylum for the Insane — that mysterious, inseparable 
shadow of modern civilization ! 

In 1858, when starting off on his story of "Count or Counterfeit," the Rev. 
R. J. MacGeorge described Hamilton as ■• the ambitious and stirring little city." The 
sobriquet of " the ambitious little city " was thenceforward fastened upon Hamilton, the 
middle term being craftily omitted. A quarter-century has elapsed since "Solomon of 
Streetsville " wrote his burlesque, and time, which cures all things, has removed all re- 
proach as to the city's size, but as to the rest, Hamilton is more stirring and more 
ambitious than ever. Ambitious? Why not? For ambition is 



45 J 

en in this 
i must i)e 

ngs as tlir 


anada Life 

who liave 

vhich does 



ilton have 


ences with 


tute, which 


ng Ladies' 




agara, and 


up the eye 

lants have 


in, looking 


ndscape of 



the Rev. 

. }]^l^ 

city." The 


milton, the 

'■- ':' 

Solomon of 

ved all re- 


r and more 


e was the 
e district, 
uld extend 
gle-side of 
y highwa)' 
d (Wood- 
" Dundas 

Street," after Henry Dundas, Viscount Melville, who during Simcoe's governorship was 
Secretary-at-War in the Duke of Portland's cal)inet. l">om tliis .Street, which still at 
Dundas is called "The Governor's Road," the town took its name. 'Ihe vast marsh 
which occupies the lower part of the picturesque Dundas Valley was a oted resort 
for water-fowl, and the military officers stationed at York (Toronto) revelled in the 
sport that it afforded. Karly in the century, Captain Coote, of tlie Kighth or King's 
Regiment, devoteil iiimseif to this sport with so much enthusiasm that, i)y a well-aimed 
douhlc-barrelled pun, which brought down at once lioth the water-fowl and the sports- 
man, the marsh was nicknamed " Coote's Paradise." \W extension, the name was 
applied to a village that clustered around the upper end of the marsh, and thus in our 
earliest Parliamentary records we encounter "petitions" from "Coote's Paradise," and 
legislation based thereon. 

Recent geologists tell us that some ;Lons ago the water of tiie upper lakes dis- 
charged, not over the precipice at Niagara, but swept in a majestic tide down the 
strath of Dundas ; and that the great marsh and Burlington Bay are but tlie survivals 
of this ancient epoch. Among the early burgesses of Dundas was one Pierre Desjardins, 
who, like the mighty canal-digger, Lesseps, did a good deal of original thinking for him- 
self and for others. He saw the trade of the Western Peninsula falling in a thin cas- 
cade over the mountain at Ancaster and Grimsby and tlie rest ; "r// bicii, iiirs amis, 
why not turn the whole current of that trade down this ancient waterway of the 
Dundas Valley?" So Peter went to work, dug his canal the whole length of the 
marsh, and wound it around Burlington Heights, which was easier than carrying it 
through. The- Great Western Railway presently began its emijankments, and, by 
arrangement with that great mound-builder, the Desjardins Canal pierced the Heights. 
The remains of a mammoth were disinterred, startling the Irish navvies with the 
consideration, "What game-bags the sportsmen in the ould times must have had I" 

With the opening of the Desjardins and Burlington Canals the keenest rivalry began 
between Dundas and Hamilton, old .\ncaster looking down amusedly at this race from 
her seat on the Mountain. The odds seemed in favour of Dundas until the opening of 
ithe Great Western Railway, — ^headquarters at Hamilton. The race was then over I 
Soon the water-weeds began to encroach on the I3esjardins Canal, and the very name 
was beginning to get unfamiliar when the frightful accident of the 12th of March, 1857, 
gave the place a renewed and a most tragic interest. The afternoon passenger train 
from Toronto, after entering on the drawbridge that spanned the canal at Burlington 
Heights, was heard to give a piercing shriek, and a moment afterwards was seen to 
crush through the bridge and plunge into the canal forty feet below. The evening was 
bitterly cold. All through the night, and through the next day, and next night, the 
doleful task proceeded of breaking up the sunken cars and removing the now heedless 
passengers. What spectral vision of death the engineer Burntield saw before him on 




llic l)'i(lo(; wlicii he soiiiided that piercinj; cry will never Ix- known, for, with a heroism 
wortiiy of Curtiiis and old Rome, he pluiij^ed with his iron st(M!d into the al))ss. 

When it became apparent that railroad enterprise had altered th(! " manifest 
destiny" of Dnndas, the town wisely devoted itself to manuf.actures r.ithcr than to 
navijjjation, selecting; those- manufactures which form the <jreat staples of comiiKTce and 
the prime mo\ers of iiuhistry, — cotton manufactun,', paper manufacture, \.\\v. l)uildin<f of 
engines and iioilers, the makin<; of wood- work in<j[ machiner\-, of cardiny machines, and 
of steel and iron tools, from the axe to the giant lathe. A fraternal relatif)n has been 
established with its old commercial antagonist, Hamilton, by the laying of a steam 
tramway. Xo \i(issitude of fortune can deprive Du .das of the greatest of her ancient 
glories, and that is her glorious scenery, which in\ .)limtarily brings every tourist to his 
feet as the train sweeps along the mountain terrn :e. .Since the day, more than two 
centuries ago, wIkmi La Salle, first of Europeans, jazed upon this scenery,— the ravine, 
tile neighbouring cascades, the whole valley, — th :!re has been but one verdict, and 
against that \erdict Dundas neetl fear no appeal! 

Leaving the Dundas N'alley, we cannot do 1. 'tter than strike across the country 
for the (Irand River. We take the ancient Lidia.> trail, b\ which the first white 




a Iioroisiii 


" maiiiffst 

■r than to 

imercc and 


hiiildinjf of 


chines, and 


1 has IxHMi 

f a steam 

ler aiicienl 

irist to liis 


than two 


the ravine, 

irdict, and 


le country 

first white 






-ij wayfarer through these solitudes, Joliet, - is-». 

f; made his way homewards to Quebec • 
from the newly -discovered Sault Ste. 

Marie. It was through these glens, and through the archways of some of these 
very trees, tliat the young explorer joyously strode along with the first rough map of 
our Western Peninsula in his pocket. Following this old Indian trail through a 
series of picturesque landscapes, we strike the charming river which the Trench, 
from the size of the embouchure, named the " Grand," and which Governor Simcoe 
vainly attempted, by solemn statute, to re-christen the " Ouse." This district fell 
within the western riding of his County of York. The English County of York is tra- 
versed by the Ouse; crs;o this river ought to be, not the "Grand," but the "Ouse." By 
a similar logical process, "Toronto" should be York, and became York accordingly. 

























Happily in inritluT case; did tin; new label adher«-. We Imvc struck tlu; (Iraiul River, 
where the old Mohawk Church stands sentry over the tomb that incloses the mortal re- 
mains of Urant, the ^,freatest of Indian chif^ftains. This church is all that now remains 
of Hrant's ambitious and once famous Indian villajfe. which for a half-century con- 
tributeil so many picturesque pages to the narratives of tourists. Musing; over Hrant's 
tomb in tlu- deepeninj; shadow of tile Mohawk Church, one's thouj,dits are borne with 
the murmurin^f river to the lake shores that often witnessed the prowess of those terri- 
ble warriors ; and thence onwards to those shores beyonil the seas w here I-rench and 
English statesmen often anxiously awaiteil the decisions of Indian council-fires. While 
cultivating the alliance of the Hurons around Georgian Hay, Chamjilain was Ixtraytd 
into the fatal error of making an inroad into the lair of the Irocjuois south of Lake 
Ontario. The Hritish Government, on the other hanil, has always shown a mark(;il and 
humane consideration for all the aborigines of the Colonies, without reference to tribal 
divisions. Hrant is affirmed to have been the son of rne of the four Indian chiefs 
who visited England in 1710. Queen Anne these novel visitors comfortably cait:d 
for in Lopdon, and attended by two interpreters. Students of Addison's Spectator will 
remember the amusing paper in which are given alleged extracts from the journal of 
one of these "Indian Kings": — the Indian's mythical account of the building of St. 
Paul's Cathedral, and his philosophical remarks on English politics and fashions, (hieen 
Anne became so interested in the evangelization of the Red Men that siie presented 
to the aborigines of the Mohawk Valley a communion service of solid silver, which 
went through all the turmoils of the Revolutionary War uninjured, and was brought 
over by Hrant on his emigrating from the Mohawk to the Grand River. The service 
is still carefully preserved and is used at Communion. It is regarded b\ the Indians 
with great veneration ; for, by historical as well as religious associations, it visibly links 
them to the great past of their race. Is it wonderful that the more thoughtful of 
this ancient race should now spend their lives in sad day-dreams on the epoch when 
the Irocjuois were undisputed masters of all the Great Lakes, and of all the noble 
rivers and of the rich woodlands and their sunny glades from the Ottawa and the 
Hudson to the Mississippi? Lahontan, writing in 1684, estimated each of the five 
cantons of the Iroquois Confederacy at fourteen thousand souls, of whom fifteen 
hundred bore arms. A sixth "nation," the Tuscaroras, was admitted in 1714, bring- 
ing with it another warlike contingent. By their sagacity and eloquence at the 
council-fire, as well as by their matchless bravery in the field, the Mohawks long held 
the Hegemony in this unique Confederation. Is it wonderful to find this taciturn but 
emotional race living in the past rather than in the present ? Talk of " reserves " 
to a race whose hunting-ground was half a Continent ; you might as well have allo- 
cated Lake Windermere to the Danish vikings that roamed at will over the wild 
North Sea! 



The Treaty of Utrecht in 171 ^ declared the In)(|ii<)is Confederacy, — then compris- 
ing Five Nations, — to lie muhr tlie |)roteciion of Cireat Uritaiii. I lie trust tliiis under- 
taken has ever since inlhienced tiu; policy of tiu: Canadian as well as of \.\w. Imperial 
Government. When the Civil contest hrok*; out hetween Mnj^dand and tlu; American 
Colonies, the Indians jfcnerally nimained faithfid to the "(ireat I'ather," and Hrant's 
influence far more than outweijj^hed the opposition of the Seneca chief, " Ked Jacket." 
When the Kevohitionary War closetl, the U. I'^. Loyalists were at first lor^jotten, and 
amonj; th(Mn the Indian allies, whose interests in the I'niled States were obviously 
imperilled b\ the chaiii^c of (iovernment. Mrant so strenuously represented the 
matter, that (leiieral llaldimand, tiu: I,ieiitenant-(«overnor of Upper Canada, assigned 
to tile Indian Loyalists a larjje reservation on tin; Grand River. This comprised 
oriyinall)' a hell twelve miles widi', inleresi'ctcd liy the rivec from the mouth to the 
source. X'.iriotis continj^ents of tiu; Si.\ Nations arrived and formed cantons alonjj 
the river front. I'or his own tribe, the Mohawks, Hrant selectetl the picturestpie and 
fertile valley in which Mrantford was half a century later to b(; founded. It was 
Brant's early ambition to win over his people to civilized life, and to establish a pros- 
perous and inlluential Mohawk Canton. He had been already enJ,^^},a•d on this 
scheme in the Mohawk \'alley. His tribe were not only fierce warriors and lithe 
huntsmen, but fairly good farmers. They, as well as their friends, the Senccas, had 
not only wide grain fields, but rich fruit orchards. For seventy years after the fire and 
sword of Sullivan's e.xpedition had swept over their valleys, the traces of Indian in- 
dustry were still discernible. Hrant emigrated to the (iraml River, having present 
to his memory the waving grain-fields and the hill-sides, white with orchard blo.ssoms, 
which Indian husbandry had added to the landscapes of the Mohawk and Wyoming 
Valley.s. He hoped to reproduce such scenes amon;,' the rich woodlands of the Grand 
River. Hut it was no light task to bring back to peaceful thoughts ami pursuits his 
wild warriors after si.x years of savage warfare. Even without this recent frenzy in 
their blood, there was in the Indian race a passionate yearning after wild wood- 
land life that would break out afresh after many years of civilized routine. On 
Brant's death, in 1807, his widow promptly abandoned the comfortable homestead, 
with its train of servants, at Wellington .Square, and, after twenty-seven years of 
civilized life, set up a wigwam on the Grand River. Augustus Jones, the Deputy 
Provincial Surveyor, — remembered for his survey of Yonge Street and of very many 
of our early townships, — married an Indian bride at the Grand River, but their son, 
Peter Jones ("Sacred Waving Feathers,") the famous missionary, tells us that, owing 
to his father's frequent absence, the household reverted to Indian life and habits; 
that he himself lived and wandered for fourteen years with the Indians in the 
Grand River woods, blackening his face with charcoal to conciliate the Munedoos 
(Goblins), and behaving generally like a young pagan. 




lllS lllullT- 

' lin[)erial 
1(1 lirant's 
;1 Jack<-t." 
ottcn, and 

tMltCtl tile 

I, assijjiu'll 
th to the 
ons along 
L'S(|iic and 
1 1 was 
ish a [iros- 
il on this 
and litlu' 
necas, had 
ic fire and 
Indian in- 
ng present 
le Grand 
rsLiits his 
renzy in 
d wood- 
ne. On 
years of 
e Deputy 
ry many 
llieir son, 
It, owing 
I habits; 
s in the 

liovernor llaldiinand had 
assigned sperially to Brant's 
trilx', the Mohawks, a b«'auti- 
fid tract six miles sciuare, 
nost pi(liircs(|ucly sitiiatcil, 
and intrrsc(;tc<l i)y the (iraiid 
Riser. I'll!" more convenient 
intercourse lirant threw a kind 
of i)oom across the river at 

a ]ioint where it contracts its channel, 

and near the sit(! of the line iron bridge 

which was recently opened by His Kx- 

celiency llie Manpiis of Lome, and 

which bears his name. This crossing 
sjCame to be known as " Hrant's Ford" and afterwards " Brantford " ; just as Chaucer's 
gentle cadence " Oxenford " became sharpeiied and shrilled into "Oxford." The chief- 
Main's plan of civilization set out with the Evangelization of his tribe. In 1785 he visited 

:^ngland, where he was received with distinction, and on his return he built with the 






funds he had collected the Mohawk Church, as we still find it. Resuming the studies 
of his earlier and his happiest days, he translated into the Mohawk dialect the Service 
of the Anglican Church and the Gospel of St. Matthew. In this translation of the 
Gospel it is very interesting to note that he renders " town " or " village " by 
" Canada" thus supplying an undesigned but striking ehicidation of our National name. 
This Mohawk Church was the first temple dedicated to Christianity in Upper Canada, 
and the " sound of a church-going bell " was here first heard. Though the church 
is left the lonely survivor of Brant's village, service is still regularly conducted 
there in the Mohawk dialect, which is now generally understood by all of the Six 
Nations. Towards the end of his life Brant changed his residence to Wellington 
Square (Burlington), where he occupied a house and estate bestowed upon him. by 
the Government. On May-Day of every year the banks of the Grand River above 
and below the Ford exhibited unusual stir and animation ; for this was the great 
annual festival of the Si.\ Nations. As we look out from the Lome Bridge on v.he 
charming landscape ihat has in places survived the change of race, let us conjun- 
away the busy streets and mills and factories, the church spires and educational 
institutes of the present city; let us take the "town|)lot" of 1830 away back to its 
primeval, park-like beauty. These river-banks are once more clothed to the verge 
with rich woods, that are now putting forth their young foliage. Here and there 
are natural meadows already joyous with bright spring llower:. The Grand River 
dances merrily in the sun this May-morning, as great canoes sweep up and down, 
bea''Ing warriors gay with waving feathers and brilliant with vermillion. Their 
tomahawks have been polished to the Ijrightness of silver, and flash out from thjjr 
belts like meteors as the warriors bow to the sweep of their paddles. The smoke 
of wigwams ascends the still morning air in slumberous columns. Presently, all 
the canoes converge towards the Mohawk Village. The state coach of Brant, the 
great Tekarihogea of the Six Nations, — " the chief of chieftains and warriors,"— 
approaches, drawn by four horses and attended by a numerous retinue of liveried 
servants. He is received with a barbaric pomp, that to those earnest men is no 
unmeaning parade. As we scan their faces, we remember with a shudder they are 
the very men who swept with the whirlwind of their revenge the valleys of the Sus- 
quehanna! Unhappily for poor Gertrude of Wyoming, Brant was not there to restrain 
them, as he elsewhere did, and as he alone of mortals could. Happier days and 
peaceful sc°nes have now befallen the Iroquois; to-day they are met near the Grand 
River Ford for festivity. The war-dances begin, and they are given with an earnest- 
ness suggestive of recent and terrible rehearsals. We are glad when the youngei 
warriors introduce their games of activity, notably the graceful Lacrosse, in which th( 
"Brants" of another race and a future generation will perhaps by their achievements 
obscure the remembrance of this May-Day. Now the daylight fails ; the camp- 



the studies 
the Service 
;ion of the 
tillage " h) 
ional name, 
ler Canada, 
the church 
of the Six 
ion him l)y 
iiver above 
the great 
dge on i.he 
us conjure 
back to its 
) the verge 
: and there 
irand River 
and down, 
ion. Their 
from thjir 
The smoke 
'resently, all 
Brant, the 
of liveried 
men is no 
er they are 
of the Sus- 
to restrain 
r days and 
the Grand 
an earnest- 
he youngei 
1 which thi 
tiie camp 



fires light up into wild relief the wigwams, those dusky, athletic forms, and the 
foliage of the woodlands. The assembled warriors form a circle around their re- 
nowned Tekarihogea and listen to his every word with profound attention ; for 
Brant has lately returned from his second visit to the Court of the "Great Father," 
where he has been received like a " King of Men," as he is. He is full of bright 
anticipation. He has brought over money to erect a church, and he has had a 
church-bell specially cast, which will soon arrive. As to that anxious question, the 
fee-simple of the Indian Reserves, the Prince of Wales assured him on his honour 
all would be well. We are in the midst of the chieftain's bright anticipations for 
the Six Nations and their Mohawk metropolis, when our reverie is broken by a 
railway train thundering athwart the river. We find ourselves still on the Lome 
Bridge, the dark current is swirling past the abutment, and the gas-lights are glancing 
on the water. What of Brant's Mohawk Metropolis and of his bright hopes for the 
Six Nations? 

Half-civilized communities have at any time but little cohesion, and, even during 
Brant's life, disruptive forces were actively at work. A faction of his tribe split ofif 
and went away to the Bay of Ouintd. His eldest son, a morose and implacable savage, 
was deeply concerned in these domestic broib : he led a continuous and determined oppo- 
sition to the chieftain's sagacious plans, and suggested unworthy motives. Following up 
his unnatural hate, he made a murderous assault upon his father in his own house at 
Wellington Square, but the old warrior smote him such a blow that he died of the 
effects. Under the cloud of this awful tragedy, — the gruesome evidence of which is 
still discernible at Brant House, — the chieftain rapidly failed. The last words caught 
from his dying lips were a gasping entreaty to care for the interests of the poor Red 
Men. His youngest son by the third wife succeeded him in his chieftainship and 
dignity. The son was manfully struggling with the difficult task that had been left 
to him when the unfortunate W'ar of 1812 broke out, with its demoralizing iniluences. 
At the first scent of blood the Mohawk warriors returned with a tremendous rebound 
towards savage habits of life. Their gallant young chieftain led them in person at 
the battles of Oueenston Heights, Lundy's Lane, and the Beaver Dam ; but during 
the war he had great difficulty in keeping them imder restraint, and it was still more 
ditlicidt, when tiie war was over, to win them back to peaceful industry. The 
scheme of the great Iroquois Colony with the Mohawk metropolis was a most in- 
teresting political experiment, but its failure was a foregone conclusion. In 1830" 
Captain John Brant recognized the issue by granting a "town-plot" to a more organi- 
zable race. On this site arose successively the village, town, city of Brantford, which 
happily perpetuates the English name of the great Thayendanegea. Scarcely had the 
younger chieftain seen the foundation laid for this more promising enterprise when, 
after six hours' illness, he fell a victim to cholera during the dreadful visitation of 




1S32. His ashus were laid l)esi<le tliose of iiis fainous sire Tlieir tnmij brings 
aniuially many pilgrims lo Hranlford, ami tiience to the Mohawk C'luirch. 

The Council 1 louse of the Six Nations is now in the rownship of Tuscarora, 
about eleven miles from Brantford. The views aloni^ the ri\er in this ileli^htful drive 
are remarkably tine, especially wlu^rc we look down upon the "ox-bow" beiul : there, 
on the rich alluvium of Bow Park, the Honourable Georire Brown established his 
famous herds of short-horn cattle, which are still one of the sitjhts of this neijj^hbour- 
hood. The Earl of DufTerin was entertained in 1874 by the Six Nations at their 
Council House. With these assembled chiefs and warriors tho main concern was, not 
their own welfare, I)ut the memory of their great chief! They entrusted the Gov- 
ernor-General with an address to H. R. H. Prince Arthur, who, on his visit to 




Canada in i860, had been enrolled a chief of the Iroqnois Confederation. The outcome 
of this address was a public movement for a Hrant Memorial, which it is intended 
shall occupy the centre of the Victoria Park, Brantford, opposite the Court House. 

Alon<r the Grand River Valley from Brantford to I<er,i,nis w.- liave a ion.i,^ series of 
picturesque seats of industry. The chief are Branttord, Paris, Gait. Preston and I-lora 
on the main river; Ayr on the Nith, which joins the Grand River at Paris; and 
Guelph on the Speed, 
which joins the Grand 
River at Preston. 

Amon<x the leading; 
industries of Brantford 
are manufactures of 
engines and boilers ; 
portable saw -mills; 
a;rist-mill machinery; agricul- 
tural implements ; stoves and 
ploughs ; cotton and stone- 
ware. Amidst these engross- 
ing interests the education of 
the young has not been over- 
looked. The Public Educa- 
tional .System includes, besides 
the ordinary equipment of 
Central and Ward .Schools, 
an extensive Collegiate Insti- 
tute. The young Ladies' College is under the 
oversight of the Presbyterian Church. In the 
vicinity of Brantford are two special educational 
institutions; the Indian Institute, under the con- 
trol of a benevolent corporation, constituted 
in i64g ; and the Ontario Institution for 
the Blind, which is administered by the 
Provincial Government. 

Prom tile hill we have now reached look 
away south across the broad valley to the 

wooded heights. Nestling among those distant trees lies a cosy homestead which, 
in the days of its late owner, suggested, not hard-handed husban'lry, but literary leisure 
and scientific research. The house lay Ijack from the highway with a hospitable vine- 
clad porch ; and, if you strolled to the edge of the grounds, you looked down from a 



lofty arbour upon a river vista of exceeding loveliness. Amid the inspiring scenery of 
Tutelo Heights was conceived and brought forth that most surprising of articulate crea- 
tures, the Speaking Telephone. It was in ihe long summer days of 1874, — just when 
the golden wheat-fields on the Heights were waving p welcome to the harvesters, — that 
the germinal iilea occurred to Professor Graham Hell. Then followed two years of in- 
tense thought and constant experiment. Among Canadians there were a fev/ men 
"visionary" enough to realize the vast possibilities of the instrument, — notal)ly neigh- 
bour Brown of Bow Park, and his brother. Mr. VV. H. Grififin, the Brantford agent 
of the Dominion Telegraph Company, generously gave his nights and the use of his 
wires to the cause, and thus the new invention came first to be tested on an actual 
telephonic circuit between Brantford and Tutelo Heights. It was a balmy August 
night of 1876, tranquil and starlight — a night which none of u'- who were present in 
the porch on the Heights are likely to forget. A prefatory "Hoy, hoy!" spoken into 
the Telephone was swiftly answered back by "Hoy, hoy!" Some weird, ghostly echo ? 
No : a clieery human voice replying from Brantford, — yonder where the distant lights 
are glimmering in the valley. Hearty congratulations were exchanged. Then a para- 
graph was read from the news of tiie day, — by an auspicious coincidence, some project 
of high hope and expectation. The sentences distilled from an aerial wire, and from 
the earth beneath our feet into the little receiver, word by word, clear ^nd bright as 
amber. There was something inexpressibly solemn in that first human v< ice flowing 
in out of boundless space and welling uj) from the foundations of the world. A pause. 
Then a slender runlet of sweet, plaintive music trickled into the ear; other voices 
swelled the refrain, and now a very fountain of melody gushed forth. The Tele- 
phone has since become one of the most familiar of scientific instruments ; but, 
on that memorable occasion, when its powers were first unfolded, the scene might 
well be thought a lcvt!e of King Oberon, — an enchanted Dream of the Mid-summer 

Between Brantford and Paris river-views of great beauty reward the adventurous 
canoeist. Paris, like Quebec, has an upper and lower town : the dividing line here is the 
Nith, or ".Smith's Creek," which, after winding through deep, romantic glens, joins the 
Grand River. The settlement was originally called "The Forks of the Grand River" 
until Hiram Capron, locally dignified as "King" Capron, raised the standard of revolt. 
He called a public meeting (about 1836) and protested against having to head all his 
letters with "The Forks of the Grand River." He recommended the word "Paris" 
both for shortness, and because there was so much crude plaster of Paris in the neigh- 
bourhood. Thus the settlement got the name Paris, and the shrewd Vermonter gained 
a perpetual advertisement for his gypsum beds and plaster mill ! The gypsum 
deposit, on the Grand Ri\ir extends from Cayuga to Paris, a distance of about 
thirty-five miles. Geologically it belongs to the "Onondaga" formation, and, at 




scenery of 
culatc crea- 
-just when 
sters, — that 
ears of in- 
i few men 
ibly neigh- 
tford agent 
use of his 
1 an actual 
ny August 
present in 
poken into 
jstiy echo ? 
itant lights 
en a para- 
ne project 

and from 
I bright as 
Ice flowing 

A pause, 
her voices 
The Tele- 
;nts ; but, 
ene might 

here is the 
, joins the 
lid River" 

of revolt. 
!ad all his 
d "Paris" 
the neigh- 
:er gained 
: gypsum 

of about 
and, at 






Paris, the deposit is divided into 
two veins of four or five feet 
in thickness by a four-foot stra- 
tum of shale. The veins are 
mined back to considerable dis- 
tances from the river-banks, 
leaving a series of dark cata- 
combs, and thus giving to the 
Canadian Paris at least a sub- 
terranean resemblance to the 

French metropolis. Among the characteristic industries of this picturesque town, its 
knitting factories should not be overlooked. 

The novelist, John Gait, is responsible for many of the geographical names that are 
found within or near the old domain of the Canada Company. Many puzzling names 
of townships become abundantly clear by reference to a list of the Company's directors 
during the years when Gait was their Superintendent. Many names were bestowed by 
him as a compliment to others, or by others as a compliment to him. Among the 
latter was " Gait," first designating a postal station, and afterwards successively the 
village and town. In 1816 the Honourable William Dickson purchased the township, 
which he named Dumfries after his native town in Scotland. He committed the practi- 



cal details of colonizing this unbroken forest to Absalom Shade, a young Buffalonian, 
by trade a carpenter, and by natural capabilities anything else that may be needed. 
Shade's sagacity is sufficiently evinced in the site that he chose for the future town. 
The material advantages in water-power were obvious ; let us hope that he was not 
unintluenced Ijy the glorious scener) which Mr. Young, the Historian of Gait, restores 
for us in a few vivid sentences : " As Mr. Shade surveyed the scene stretched out 
before hini during that July afternoon in 1816, it must have appeared infinitely grander 
than at the i)resent time. The gently sloping oval-shaped valley at his feet, the waters 
of the (irand River passing — like a broad band of silver — straight through its centre, 
the graceful hills encircling around, and the luxuriant profusion of summer foliage 
rising from the centre, tier above tier, until the highest peaks of the sombre pines were 
reached — these peculiarities of the landscape, so suggestive of a vast natural amphi- 
theatre, must have made up a striking and beautiful picture. It must have looked like 
an immense Coliseum in leaves !" .At Mr. Dickson's recpiest the Post Office of the new 
settlement was nametl "Gait" after his early friend and liis school-mate in Edinburgh; 
but for eleven years the settlers called their village "Shade's Mills." The genial 
novelist visitetl the place in 1.S27, antl henceforward village as well as Post Office bore 
his name. On the occasion of this very visit, was not Gait making thumb-nail sketches 
of .Shaile and others to be afterwards developed in his novel " Lawrie Todd"? We 
throw out the suggestion for the benefit of Galtonians, — readers of Gait as well as 
rc-sidents of Gait. 

The town is now a prosperous centre of industry. There are large flouring mills 
driven by the fall of the river, and numerous machine-shops, factories and foundries 
driven in' steam. The raw materials that feed these busy hives are wood, iron, wool 
and leather, (jalt iuis won its way through some severe ordeals. In July, 1834, the 
cholera, introduced by a travelling menagerie, swept away in four days nearly a fifth of 
the population, and followed out to their farms in the vicinity many of the rural sight- 
seers. The violence of the plague was so great that robust men ilied in some cases 
within an iiour of seizure. In 185 1 and again in 1856 the town suffered appalling 
losses from fire; but indomitable courage "out of this nettle danger plucked this 
flower safety." The fires found (ialt built of wood, and left it built of limestone and 
granite. The most recent archiK-ctural triumph is the Presbyterian Church that 
morning and evening casts upon the Grand River the shadow of its lofty and grace- 
ful spire. 

Guelph enjoys the triple honour of having a Royal name, a literary paren- 
tage, anc, a distinguished historian. Mr. Gait tells us how, after mapping out a 
block of more than 40,000 acres of the choicest land in the Company's broad do- 
main, he had the rich woodlands and river banks explored, and that by a gratifying 
consensus of reports the present site of Guelph was selected. In order to give the 







occasion due importance and solemnity, St. Georj^e's Day (April 23rd,) 1827, was 
selected for tile inauguration. V\^e cannot do better than let the founder himself 
describe it : — 

" About sunset, dripping wet, we arrived near the spot we were in quest of, a 
shanty, which an Indian, who had committed murder, had raised as a refuge for 

" We found the men, under the orders of Mr. Prior, whom I had employed 
for the Company, kindling a roaring fire, and after endeavouring to dry ourselves, 
and having recourse to the store basket, I proposed to go to the spot chosen for the 
town. Hy this time the sun was set, and Dr. ')unlop, with his characteristic drollery, 
having doffed his wet garb, and dressed himself Indian fashion in blankets, we pro- 
ceeded with Mr. Prior, attended by two woodsmen with their a.xes. 

" It was consistent with my plan to invest our ceremony with a little mystery, 
the better to make it remembered. So intimating that the main body of the men 
were not to come, we walked to the brow of the neighbouring rising ground, and 
Mr. Prior having shown the site selected for the town, a large maple tree was 
chosen ; on which, taking an axe from one of the woodmen I struck the first 
stroke. To me at least the moment was impressive,— and the silence of the wood 
that echoed to the sound, was as the sigh of the solemn genius o*^ the wilderness 
departing for ever. 

" The doctor followed me — then, if I recollect rightly, Mr. Prior — and the wood- 
men finished the work. The tree fell with a crash of accumulating thunder, as if 
ancient nature were alarmed at the entrance of man into her innocent solitudes 
with his sorrows, his follies, and his crimes. 

" I do not suppose that the sublimity of the occasion was unfelt by the others, 
for I noticed that after the tree fell there was a funereal pause, as when the 
coffin is lowered into the grave ; it was, however, of short duration, for the doctor 
pulled a flask of whiskey from his bosom, and we drank prosperity to the City of 

" The name was chosen in compliment to the Royal Family, both because I 
thought it auspicious in itself, and because I could not '•ecollect that it had ever 
before been used in all the King's dominions." 

The success predicted for the new settlement by its founder was already more 
than half won by the very site he had chosen. From its throne on the hills the " Royal 
City " would command one of the choicest of agricultural realms — a succession of allu- 
vial bottoms, pastoral streams, and fruitful hill-sides. Water-power came rushing and 
bounding down the heights, neighing for its master like a high-mettled charger, eager 
to champ the forest trees into lumber and the golden grain into foamy flour. The 

rolling landscape early suggested pastoral farming. The way thither was well led more 





than half a century ago \^y Rowland Wingfiold, a young g(MnK;man from (iloucester- 
shire, who stocked his hill-sides with Southdown and Leicester sheep, besides importing 
short-hc-ii cattle and Berkshire hogs. Mr. A. I). Ferrier, in his " Reminiscences," recalls 
the landing of this choice stock at Quebec, and the sensation there produced. It 
was an " object lesson," not only for the luihitan'^, but for tlu: l)est of our Western far- 
mers. The first Guelph fairs e.xhibited not the glossy fat beeves and the grunting 
pork-barrels of to-day, but often the most shadowy of kine and the most saurian of 
"alligators." Kxperimental farming took early and deep root in this district, enriching 
by its results not alone the district, but the entire Province. 

These valuable e.\perinicnts received official recognition in 1873, when the Provin- 
cial College of Agriculture and Experimental Farm v/as located about a mile south of 
Guelph, on a tract of 550 acres, which had previously formed the stock farm of Mr. F. 
W. Stone. The old farm-house has rapidly grown into an e.xtensive pile of build- 
ings, including, besides 
quarters for a hundred 
and forty students, a w,, 



good library, a 
museum, lecture- 
rooms, laborato- 
ries and conserva- 
tories. The design of this admirable institution is to apply to agriculture the 
principles, the methods, and the discoveries of modern scientific research. 






s importing 
ic(!s," recalls 
jclucecl. It 
Vcstern far- 
ic j^aiinting 
saurian of 
t, enriching 

the Provin- 

ile south of 
1 of Mr. F. 
le of build- 

ik > 

:ulture the 


Gait's historical tree became the radiant 
point for the future city. On the massive 
;, stump was forthwith planted a compass-staff, and the Surveyor, James McDonald, pro- 
"H claimed that to be the centre of the new settlement. After, however, this solemn word 
had passed, some scoffing by-stander spoke up and said, that now, for once, the centre 
of a circle would lie on its circumference, because the surveyor was then on the very 
edge of the town-plot ! Dr. Dunlop, the witty and eccentric surgeon of the Canada 
Company, was early afield when any project was started that implied either bone-setting 
or the spilling of wine. Dunlop promptly reduced the surveyor's dislocation by explain- 
ing that the streets were to be disposed like the ribs of a lady's fan, and were to 
radiate from Cialt's tree as their centre. The scoffer was mute; like the web of an 
ungeometrical spider, the plan of Guelph was woven ; and so it remains. The scene of 
tliese eventful sayings and doings may be visited by the curious traveller who is waiting 
for his train at the Grand Trunk Station. Walking beyond the east end of the plat- 
form to the threshold of the iron viaduct, he will see in the massive stone abutment on 



the cdi^rc of the S|ii'C(l an iiiuU'sii;iiL'd memorial occiipyiiij; the site wlicrc (iall's ma|>lc 
liflcil its maj(.'slic dome of k-avi'S. The ilecp-rootcd base of the tree innjj remained 
undistiirlu'd and was revered as a kind of literary l)e(inest. It l)ore a lar^'e snn-dial. 
whicii for many years served Guelpii as its town clock, and in the fleetinjf shadows 
cast by the ^Miint flnjj;er tlit; rustic moralist found many a similitude of human life. 

A memorial of the convivial days of John (lalt and 1 )r. Dunlop still surviv(!s in 
the " I'riory," — an ebn-lojf structure, not deilicated to reli^dous uses, but named in pun- 
ning commemoration of Mr. Prior, the Canada Company's a^jent. In .i letter dated 
"The Priory, Guelph, U. Canada, 5th October, 1S2S," tialt tells his friend ''Delta," 
" Our house, it is true, is but a loj; one, the first liiat was erected in the 
town ; but it is not without some pretensions to elegance. It has a rustic portico 
formed with the trunks of trees, in whicii tiie constitueri'. parts of the Ionic 
Order are really somi-what intelligibly displayed. In tin; interior we have a handsome 
suiti; of rooms, a library, etc." The Priory, though framed of logs is said to h;ive 
cost between /'i,oo(i and ^,"2,000 sterling, such was the cost of imporleil materials, and such 
at lirsl were the extrenu; ditliculties of transport. An aml)itious market-house formed 
the /('rv/.v or iiearlh of the young city, and in approved anticpie style the Civic Penates 
were honored with a public feast and libations. A great dinner was had, ami the attend- 
ance secured of all magnates Gait cou'd lay hands on. Some glimpses of the occasion, 
as through a door ajar, are afforded by Agnes Stricklaml in the volumes of her father's 
recollections. Of the guests, Captain John Brant, the son and successor of the great 
Thaycndanegea, made the greatest impression on Colonel Strickland. lie notes with 
admiration the grand physitpie, the dignified bearing, and the pithy eloquence of the 
Mohawk Chieftain. 

I'"or the "long, qui<!t, winter nights" at the Priory, Gait had plotted out much 
literar\' work. 1). A. Moir, — tlu; gentle "Delta" of Blackwood's A/<ij;tj://ir,—\\i\s his 
own brother in literature ; ami ten years later wouKl become his biographer and literary 
e.xecutor. Writing from (uielph, in 1828, he tells Delta that his mind is then engaged 
on a broclnirc descriptive of Canada, and on "another volume for Blackwood." The 
Guelph settlement was fdling up wilii une.xampled rapidity, for the .Superintendent's 
energy provided roads and bridges through what had been an unbroken wilderness. 
The settlers elsewhere began to contrast in most pointed comparisons the apathy of 
the Provincial Government in not opening up for them proper means of transit. As 
Gait sat in his library, gazing dreamily into the great back-log fire, and building out of 
the glowing embers towering projects, commercial as well as literary, he was roused with 
a shudder from his reverie b)- the dismal baying of a wolf-pack that swept past through 
the winter forest in close pursuit of a deer ; could he but hear them, there were already 
afoot and in loud cry after him enmities and jealousies to the full as ravenous and re- 
morseless. Almost since his arrival in Canada, Gait had been pursued by a politico- 





social cabal, which under 
the personal government 
of Sir Peregrine M ait- 
land, intluenced the Com- 
panj's Directors through 
Downing Street. From 
the dusty despatches in 
the Colonial Office, may 
be gleaned that Gait 
had accepted from Lyon 
MacKenzie a file of the 


fn ■ /Y KI-SQl I- (. ANAPA. 

Colonial Advocatf ; it was cvi-n publicly st.itrd, and without any pretence of contra- 
diction, tliat lie had shaken hands with MacKen/ic;! ihc litterateur was apt to sixiui 
his eveninjjs in communion with hooks: so he was "exclusive," and "playin^^ L'a/>tain 
Grand." Mishop Macdoncll was sotnetimes at the Priory : (lalt must he htlpinjj his 
Catholic friend in some ilesij,rn on the Cler>;y Reserves, (lalt will have to he k('[)t 
under observation, — shadowt;d by some parasite of some personal trnemy ; after due 
distortion, his saying's and doinjfs must be secretly journalized and then carried to 
private accounts kept with certain notabilities. This scheme of " financial control " 
developed itself premature!),. .At a hint of authorized es[)lonajT(r from the umbra itself, 
and the use of th»! phrase "coordinate jurisdiction," Cialt broke out vcluMnently. lie 
had conceived and created the Canada Company ; he would jjo to i'Lnjjland and ask 
the Court of Directors wiiat all this meant? " Cominjj events cast their shadows 
before": the umbra, with its diary and ledger, reached I'^nj^land before; him. l'^\cn at 
the drum-head investij^ation which ensued, the .Superintendent triumphantly vindicated 
his management; but wh;it of that? lie foimd that his j^^rave had been iluj( before the 
court-martial had begun! His connection with the Canada Company was ended; but he 
lived to set up in the ])ilIory of everlasting; scorn and derision all concerned in this 
intrigue. While taking his last look at Guelph, for wiiich he hail toiled and suffered 
much, there was a pathetic farewell in front of the Priory. A hundred and forty-four 
families had within eighteen months set up houses on the town-plot, and now with tears 
starting in their eyes they came to his door to tell Gait how deeply they felt his efforts 
to raise them from dependent circumstances to comparative independence. They added 
an earnest hope tiiat he would speedily return to them. But his work here was done, 
and he had amply earned tlie gratitude of Canadians. In creating the towns of Guelph 
and Ciodericli and the intervening seventy-five miles of broad highway he left to Upper 
Canada an enduring memorial of his three years' residence. And in " Lavvrie Totld," 
where he uses his e.xploration of the Grand River as well as other scenes from his 
Canadian portfolio, he has left us a charming literary souvenir. In these latter days of 
vast land corporations it is widl to recall the history of our first great land company ; 
to learn how much a humani; manager was able to accomplish for his shareholders, 
while actively promoting the comfort and welfare of the settlers. 

The knoll that Gait bestowed upon the Anglican Church had already disappeared 
before his death. The site is now occupied by St. George's Square and the Post Office. 
The Presbyterian knoll was levelled i nvn to form a site for the present Market 
House. The " Catholic Hill " still survives to illustrate Gait's Autobiograpky, and as 
we approach the hill through " Macdonell" Street, we are reminded of one of the 
novelist's friends who remained constant while so many others proved faithless and 
treacherous. Where Gait admiringly described Gothic aisles of overarching elms, now 
stand broad streets — "Wyndham" Street and the rest, — flanked by solid structures of the 


47 « 

creamy-white majjncsian limestone for which Giiolph is famous. This aclmirahh; 

is found ahuniiantly 
on Waterloo Av- 
enue, without even 
leavinj,' the city's 
limits. One of the 
oilier hotels is [)()int- 
eil out as havinjj 
)een Iniilt of the 
stone ([uarricd from 
its own cellar. When 
tirst taken nut this 
dolomite is soft, 
I in color inclines 
iff ; but on ex- 
' " Me to the air 
it h a r d e n s and 

The geological 



""^^^^^ :,r - 

character ((f this district is interesting, all the more because apparently no example 
of the formation occurs elsewhere. Reposing on the Niagara Formation arc a group 




of stratified rocks, which make altogether a thickness of about a hundred and sixty 
feet. They form a lenticular mass reaching in extreme breadth about thirty-five miles, 
thinning out in one direction towards the Niagara River, and resting the other edge 
on the Great Manitoulin. The strata are strongly developed at Gait and Guelph, and 
a number of characteristic fossils take their specific names from this circumstance. Sir 
William Logan bestowed on this special Ontario series the name of the "Guelph For- 
mation." The Geology and Natural History of the District may be be very conveni- 
ently studied in the Museum at Elora, and reference books can be consulted at the 
Library. The Museum was for n 4 by the disinterested labours of Mr. David Boyle, 
and has contributed to Palaeontology fifteen new species of fossils, which have since 
been named, described, and figured by Professor Nicholson in his Report to the 
Provincial Government on the PaKneontology of Ontario. Of these new species two 
of the most graceful were named after enthusiastic local antiquaries : — Afurckisonia 
Boylci, after Mr. Boyle; and Mitrc/iisonia Clarkei, after the Honourable Mr. Speaker 
Clarke, who has done so much to preserve the pioneer annals of the District, and to 
interest the public in its scenery, 

The Guelph Formation makes many notable contributions to the scenery of 
Western Ontario — the glens, gorges, cascades of the Grand River basin, the pictur- 
esque disorder of the Saugeen Valley, the romantic windings of the Aux Sables, — but 
there is nowhere produced an effect more charming than the Meeting of the Waiters at 
Elora. Here, walls of dolomite, — in some places eighty feet high,— rise sheer from the 
water, or so overhang, that, looking up from below, we recall, with a shudder, Shelley's 
vivid picture in The Ccnci : — 

" There is a mighty rock 
Which has from unimaginable years 
Sustained itself with terror and with toil 
Over a gulf, and with the agony 
With which it clings, seems slowly coming down ; 
Even as a wretched sonl, hour after hour, 
Clings to the mass of life, yet clinging, leans, 
And leaning, makes more dark the dread abyss 
In which it fears to fall." 

The village at the romantic Falls of the Grand River is no more than fifty years 
old; but Indian tribes, time out of mind, made this place their favourite encampment. 
To endless fishing and deer-stalking was added that natural beauty, that delightful land- 
scape which, as his legends prove, the Indian enjoyed with the keenest zest. All 
through the rudest legends of the wigwam, there are woven enchanting pictures of the 
Happy Hunting Grounds, — ^their delicious verdure, and their brilliant flowers; the song 

I and sixty 
y-five miles, 
otiier edge 
iuelph, and 
stance. Sir 
iiielph For- 
ry conveni- 
ited at the 
avid Boyle, 
have since 
ort to the 
pecies two 
[r. Speaker 
ict, and to 

scenery of 
the pictur- 
ables, — but 
Waters at 
r from the 
", Shelley's 

fifty years 

itfiil land- a^ .-.. 

zest. All 
es of the 
the song 











of birds; the deer bounding through the rich woodlands; the sunny forest glades; the 
cool river overshadowed by lofty trees, and rippled by countless fish ; the merry 
laughter of the waterfall. As Elora now bears the name of the vestibule that led to 
the Paradise of the far distant India, so our hither Indians regarded this lovely spot as 
no unworthy portal to the Elysium of their dreams and hopes. Just such a summer 
landscape as we have here must have deeply impressed Milton in his younger days, and 
kindled his fancy when afterwards out of the darkness he pictured one of the scenes in 
Eden : — 

Umbr.igeous grots and caves 
Of cool recess, o'er wliicli the mantling vine 
Lays forth her purple grape, ami gently creeps 
Luxuriant; meanwhile iiuirmuring waters tail 
Down the slope hills, disperst ; or in a lake,— 
That to the fringed bank with myrtle crowned 
Her crystal mirror holds, — unite their streams. 



At Elora, we are in the very heart and stronghold of the old Attiwandaronk Land — 
the realm of that powerful Neutral Nation, which glimmers through Champlain's narra- 
tive of 1615-6, Hashes out, ten years later, in the letter of the friar Daillon, steadily glares 
with a baleful light tlirough the Jesuit Relations, and then, with appalling suddenness, 
is for ever e.xtinguished by the Ironuois invasions of 1 650-1. Tiie Neutrals formetl the 
earliest historical inhabitants of tiie district we are now illustrating. At the dawn of our 
annals they were in possession of the whole central and southern portions of the great 
Penh"^"la of Western Ontario ; and tiuis lay interposed between their dialectic cousins 
— the Hurons of Georgian Bay — and another related race, the Iroquois, of New York 
State. Though of kindred race, the Hurons and the Iroquois had long been at deadly 
feud ; by a remarkable compact, however, as long as they were within the bounds of the 
Neutrals, they were to meet — and for very many years did meet — on terms of apparent 
amity, often sharing not only the same wigwams, but the same meals. The Neutrals 
tints held the balance of power, and they were strong enough to enforce this singular 
armistice throughout the whole of their wide domain. They controlled both sides of the 
Niagara River, Lake Ontario as far as Burlington Bay, and the whole Canadian shore 
of Lake Erie ; while their inland jurisdiction, as already said, covered the central and 
southern tracts of the Peninsula. In 1626, this wide realm was governed by the great 
chief Souharissen, whose authority was unchallenged throughout the twenty-eight consider- 
able villages and towns that then picturesquely dotted the land. Such a unity of com- 
mand among the Indians was almost without precedent ; but so was this chieftain'.s prow- 
ess. He had made successful war on seventeen hostile tribes, and had always returned with 
droves of captives, or heaps of ghastly trophies. In one of these forays he led his fierce 
warriors from the banks of the Grand River and the Thames to the farther shore of 



/'/CTL^R/-:so( •/■: c.LW-uy.i. 

Lake Michijran, stormed a large fortified town of Fire Indians, exterminated the defen- 
ders, and drove the rest of tlie Nation heyond the Lake, and into the very heart ol 
Wisconsin. Souharissen could at a day's notice put on the war-path several thousand 

Their weapons were tiie war-clul), tlic jaselin, and tiit; how-and-arrow ; hut iIk 
warriors that Ixire them were of extraordinary size, strtMigtii, and activity. Cliamplain. 
durini; liis three months' stay anions;' tin; llurons, in the winter of 1615-6, ga/ed wist- 
fulK' towards this realm of the Neutrals, which was still, as re<;arded Luropean posses- 
sion, No-iiian's Land. Hut tlie Hurons urj^ed tlu' orcjit danger of the e.xploration. 
and though accompanietl 1)\- a French force armed to the teeth, Champlain's stout 
heart here failed him. The honours of the enterprise were reserved for Daillon. a 
Recolli't or l-ranciscan I'riar. 

In 1626 Daillon, with two other I'renchmen, boldly entered the realm of th(; terri- 
ble Souharissen. The friar's sole armament was the; pack on his back, and a staff in his 
hand. This perilous enterprise, in the land of giants, recalls the adventure ol 
Christian ami Hopeful in the Demesne of Ciiant Despair. But our Ontario pilgrim was 
rudely disciplined two years before John iUmyan was born, and lift)- jcars before tin 
vision of Doubting Castle was written. After the first reception, — which was friendh 
bevoiul his h()i)es, — Daillon sent back his two companions: and now, all alone, this in 
trepitl friar traxt-rsed tlu; Peninsula from one tMid to the other. Courage was the 
qualitN' above all others that those wild warriors admired : the daring ol ;i man who, 
imarmeil and unattended, strode fearh^ssK- through their villages and into their wigwams, 
astoundi-d antl overawed them. Then came a dangerous reaction !— "This ])ale-face must 
be a sorcerer I In tact, oiu' cousins, the llurons, say so, and tlu: llurons ;ire ralhei- 
knowing lellows." ,\ye, more: knowing than disinterested! The llurons were just 
then driving a profitable fur trade with the ImhuicIi ; many of the jjeltries came from 
the beaver-meadows on the Cir.ind River and the 'I'hames, the Neutrals gelling all the 
toil of the chase, the llurons getting all tlu; advantages of the direct comnu.'rce with 
the l-'reiu-h. 

'I'he Huron emissaries told their creiliilous neighbours that this great magician 
''had in iheir couiUry breathed a pestilence into the air; that many had died from his 
poisonous arts : that presently the Neutrals would see all their children dead aiul all 
their villages in llames ; that these b'rench folk wen- unnatural in their diet, which 
consisted of poison, serpents, aye, aiul lightning, for these l'"renihmen munch even the 
thunder-grilfon." When, by these delirious stories, the imagination of the Neutrals luul 
been fevered, the crafty Hurons threw in some advice. They anticipated the genth 
counsel of C.iant Despair's wife, Diffiilence,-" club the pilgrim." But no "grievous crab- 
tree cudgel" was needed to reinforce the brawn of these hidian athletes; by a single 
blow of the hsl the unfortunate Recollet was felled to the earth, and altogether he es- 


FROM roRoxro, wiisrw.iRn. 


I the dcfon- 
ry heart nl 
al thousand 

r ; l)iit till 
i,fa/ctl wis! 
leaii possfs- 
Iain's stoiii 
DaiMon, a 

f th(! terri- 
staff in liis 
\L'nture ol 
|jil,L;rini wa-^ 

Iji'forc; thi 
las friundl) 
inc. this iii- 
;■(: was tin- 
I man wlio, 
ir wigwams, 
I'-facc must 
are rather 

were just 
came from 
in.if all lh( 
merce with 

t maji^ician 
1 from his 
ul and all 
iet, which 
1 even the 
'utrais had 
the o(Mnl( 
:\<)iis crah- 
K a sinL;ie 
ic'r he es- 

cap<'d instant death hy a I'lere 
miracle. Continuous ill-usat^c 
followed ; hut. fjuoth the friar, 
•• all this is just what we look 
for in these lands." Remark in 
tiiose few (iui<'t wortls the sim- 
ple, sublime philosophy of the 
man I Whalcner our cret.'d, we 
instincti\c'l\' admire such hei-oic 
self-sacrifice. /\ rumor of the 
friar's tleath having reached the 
Huron Mission, 15rebeuf sent 

LOVER'S LliAl', liLOKA. 

WATCH-rOWKR KueK, lUVl.NI. l!l\i;l^. 

to th(! scene one of 1 )aillon's 
former i^uides, who led him 
Ijack from this fruitless endiassy. 
l'\)urteen \ears later another 
effort was made from tlu; i Inron 
Mission to Christianizes the Neu- 
trals. This time canu' Chau- 
monot, the Jesuit Missionary, 
and the daring liit'lieiif him- 
self,—" th.e Ajax of the .Mission." 
Hut once more the treacherous 
and mercenary llurons excited 
a}j;^ainst the pilgrims the wildest 
fancies tliat ever ran riot in these 
l)rime\al fort-sis ; they e\en tried 
to bribe the su|>erstitious Neu- 
trals int(j assassinalinij^ tlunr bene- 
factors. But, undeterreil b\ in- 
sult and ill-usa"e, di:f\ in>r fati>rue 



and cold and the greatest personal danj^ers, the heroic Hrel)eiif strode on for four 
months throujrh the winter forest, unto one villaj^e after another. That winter was 
severe and prolonged beyond what was then usual, and far beyond what we experience, 
but, in the Grand River forest, as in the l'"orest of ArcU.-n, it might well be. th;ii 
the sharpest pain did not arise from " the icy fang and churlish chiding of the winter's 
wind." What caused Brebeuf real and bitter anguisii was tiie failure of his embassy, 
the impenitence of this people, their repealed and ungrateful rejection of the Message. 
To him mere physical suffering was a s[)iritual ecstasy ; the deadliest cold was but 
" the seasons' difference." 

" lilow, blijw, Uiou winter wiiul ; 
Thou ail nol sd unkind 
As man's in^r.ititudi.'. 

♦ »*♦♦** 

Freeze, freeze, llioii vvii\ter sky ; 
Thou (lost nol liite so nigh 
As lienetits lorjjot." 

As the Jesuits were retracing their steps northwards through the woods a snow- 
storm closed in around them. The drifts were impassable and the scowl of the fierce 
aborigines was even more forbidding than the face of nature. Hut in the hardest ot 
winters, while wandering through these glens, you often come upon sweet tinkling rilK 
that refuse to be frozen, and hard by, you may find, perhaps, a mat of verdure, — tin 
brook-cress, the frond of the walking-fern or even the blossoms of some lingering wild- 
flower. When all iiiunan pity was to outward seeming congealed, a woman's heart wa^ 
overflowing with compassion for tiiese ill-used men, and the story of her kindness 
forms a delightfid oasis in a narrative of continued suffering. This noble daughter 
of the forest and flower of womanhood spurned the fears, the reproaches, tin 
insults of her clan ; welcomed the pilgrims to her lodge, set before them the 
best of her store, obtained fish from the river to enable them to keep their fast- 
days, and with this gentle, thoughtful care, entertained them until they could w- 
sume their journey. During this precious interval the linguist Brebeuf had mastered 
the vocabulary of the Neutrals, and constructed a grammar and dictionary of their dia- 
lect, which latter, like their geographical position, bridged over the interval between 
the Hurons and the Iroquois. 

It is from the faded manuscripts and the archaic French of these first explorer- 
that we must glean the first word-pictures of the romantic district we are now illus- 
trating. Daillon, as we have said, was here more than two centuries and a half ago. 
He saw the landscape kindle into the crimson and gold of autumn and then nul: 
away into the delicious languor and reverie of the Indian Summer. After traversin ; 
the heart of the Peninsula, and what would two hundred and fifty years afterwarcK 




n fur four 


winter was 



■11 bo, thai 

he winter's 

s enihass)-. 

e Messaj^e. 


d was bill 



els a snow- 

the fierce 

hardest ot 

nklintj rilK 

rdure, — thi 

jerinjf wild- 

i heart wa> 

:r kindness 

e daiijrhter 

)aches, thr 

them t!i<- 

their fasi- 

! could ri- 

d mastereil 

if their dia- 

al betwct::i 

t explorer- 
now illii- 

1 half ■A'gi.'. 
then mil: 


become the richest aj,rricultiiral district of Ontario, t!i(! worthy friar jjlows with en- 
thusiasm. " Incomparably beantifui," he exclaims, "incomparably the most extensive, 
the most beautiful, and the most fruitful land I have yet c;xplored." Through his few 
artless lines of description we can see it all : the corn-fields waving their tassels in 
the wind; the golden cilronilles gleaming from tiicir leafy covert; the beavers casting 
up earth-works; the streams cpiivering with thc-ir shoals of fish; the squirrels scuffling 
amoUL; the boughs to escape the swooping buzzard ; the wilil turkey fluttering in the 
copse ; the countless deer and elks glancing through the glades ; — altogether, thought 
the |)oc)r weary friar, such a land as might be restful and enjoyable to linger in. 

IJrebeuf visited the Neutrals when their country was under a wintry pall, which 
perhap.-, best accorded with the sombre earnestness of his character. It was his habit, 
wherever possible, to withdraw for his devotions to some wild and lonely glen, where 
the awful solitude was renilered even still more impressive by the solemn organ-voice of 
the forest. As Brebeuf traversed the Neutral Land through its length and breadth, and 
twice sojourned in its very heart, he must have Ijeen familiar with these wild ravines. 
They might supply to a recluse many a natural cloister and oratory. If we would at- 
tune our minds to the mood of this o\er-wrought, heroic Jesuit, — who was now b(;ing fast 
hurri(Hl on towards a most appalling martyrdom, — let us visit the gorge with him in the 
eerie twilight of a midwinter evening. The cloud-rack drifting across the sky betokens 
a wild night. The shadows arc fast closing in around us, and the imagination peoples 
these rocky solitudes with the scenes of boyhood. We are no longer in New I*"rance, 
but far away jn Old I""rance, and in Bayeux, that most ancient of Norman cities, where 
Brebeuf, nigh three centuries ago, spent his dreamy boyhood. As we skirt this frozen 
moat, oljserve those massive fortress walls all battered with war, wrinkled with watch- 
fulness, and hoary with the rime of ages. We enter by the open barbican. Over- 
hanging the path is a Norman watch-tower, with loop-iiole, and i>arapet, and the 
cresset-stock for the bale-fire. We look aloft, and start back. Was it fancy, or did 
the wardt;r on the tower wave; us ;iway witii a wild gesture? Did a cross-bow rustle 
at the loop-hole? It was but the night winil swaying the shrubs on the crumbling 
ramparts, and creaking the wilil grasses and sedges against the embrasure. We ad- 
vance through tile deep winding street, which presently widens out and discloses in the 
dim perspective the flanking towers of tiie old ducal palace. The lights are long out, 
and the revellers are long silent. But let us leave behind those distracting thoughts 
of the world and turn our steps towards the ancient cathedral. Observe those Hying 
buttresses ; how they loom up against the night. We enter by the nave. What 
a noble vista fading away into the darkness ! Those graceful elm-like shafts rise 
nearly eighty feet from the floor before they lose themselves in the groined roof. 
Through the aisles we get glimpses of the great muUioned and foliated windows. The 
light has now all but failed us. That human form lying out in relief on the great 

■ f. 



/'/r/VA7f.S(>r/:' C'./.\, //'./. 

tomb is a inailrd cnisailcr, with arms c-rosscd, awaiting; tli<' last i-i'r<///J Aud tlic (inat 
Rcinh'zvons. I'liis l)la(U anlnvay Irads down to tlif aiuicnl <r\|il. I.d us dcscciul. 
Tliii stoiiu steps arc frayed l>y the fei't ol aj^cs. The ;4looiii down \\vw is awful. 
I'ocl your way l>\' tliosc niii^luy (lillars; thry carry llic choir. I'iic uiassiNc ruins that 
jostle you arc faUcn tonil)s tlic Toniljs of the Cetiturii's. They liaxc witncsscil the 
trials, the sorrows, the ani^iiish of untold i,rener,itions. This crypt is as old as liishop 
Odo, the i)rotlicr ol the L'on(|uci'or ; hut there was a lore'st sanctuarv here in the 

na\s o 

f the 1)1- 


UUlS : 




ore the 



\()U Hear so 


music?— "It soundeil like the siirhiu''' ol tln! wuitcr wiml in the forest. 


came Ironi 


e (rreal orLian li>fl above our heads 

music pcalnv. 

alonij' the vau 


tones ol the MisoiTt 

It ha 

now a \t:ry tempest is swee|)ni^' the keys 

s ci;aseil 

Now lor till' second time \()U (an hear 
rool ; those closini,^ notes are the supplicatinL,^ 

n beijins to breathe, and 


aiMUi tile ors^a 

le reeds fairh' shriek with terror, ami 


e s^reat pipes sway to ami Iro in their distress, 




ow alter hillow ol sound rolls 

ov(M- ou 

r heads ; these massive arch 

wa\s (juiver like aspens. 

It is tin 

peahiiij' ihundiM" 

)f the Pics /ri 

d truth the Dav of Wrath was ni>'h. 

The fearful desolation that wit; 


lime N'cars swept the 

and I) 

f the Neutrals iiiIl: 


It'll a|i|)ear to the Church, whose 

mission had net 

11 twice rej(jct('d, a swift and terrible j 


At tl 

us comiii'. 


\isitants bore 1 

n ill 

hands no 'j-iMitle 




1 with the matchdocks ihev had latel\- irot from the Dutch at I'ort Oraiv-e 



the 1 1 


|Uois, in i':)4,S, stole throne li tlu; winter lorests towards their old ioc'S 







leii spriiii^r opened the 

iiied the Huron towns, and extermiiia 


enslaved, or tlispersed the inhabitants. Some of the Hurons who cscapetl the toma- 

iiiid ; but the Iro(iiiois no longer respecteil the 

hawk iK'd for nifi 

I're in 

to the Neutral L 

neutralitx', or the Cities of RefuLfe, 

he turn o 

f the N(;utrals th 

eiiiseUcs came next 

I what could the superb physitpie, or th(' wild chari^e of these musci 


aeainst rire-arms. 

,hich the 11 1 

uron relUL;ces aptly n;iiiu 



liar ''lants, a\ai 

with indwelliiiL 


N(;verlheless the Neutral 

s inaile 

a most desperate stru 

memorials of their last aLToin' ha\ 

been turiunl up by the settlers p 

lor life, 

u-li. riu 




i6so was iiiilecisive. Ihoi 


tli(! Iroiuiois had stormed a I; 

irij'e town, llie\ 

had aftcTwards been defeated with a loss of two In 

iiulred warriors. 

Ill t! 

le spriiiLi' t) 

the fc 

ollowimr x'ear the in\;ulers returned with reinforcements, and ellected a landiiiij: at 

the foot of what is 




I .St 

ri'et, on the ('asttMai echre of Hamilton. Th 

IS spot 

was really the key of the Neutral Land from tli<; siile of Lak(! Ontario; for it commamled 
the portaye led throui^h the Dunilas X'alley and across to tin; C.rand River. At 
the vi;ry landiii;^ |)lace a tremendous battle was fou<;ht, in which the Neutrals suffered 



minir ilefeat 


eir ilead tilletl 

a mound which, after tlu- r; 

uns and snows o 

a hundred and fifty years had beaten against it, measured fifteen feet in height and 

FNn}r 'roRoxro. irFS'nr.uw. 


tile I'liMiit 


IS (Icsccild. 

L' is awful. 


ruins liial 


trussed the 

as l5ishop 


ire in the 

iicar soft 


canu; from 


can licar 



'■atlic. ami 

li rror. and 

^ound rnjis 

,1^' llnuulcr 


iiat witliin 



rcli, wjiosc 

Jininy, ilie 

rt ( )rani,rt; 
r old foes, 
till' tonia- 
)ected tile 
luiie next ; 
ints, avail 
'. .Nfany 

liic cani- 
ouu, they 
spring- of 
andinL;' at 

i his s|)ot 
vcr. At 
I suffen'ti 
snows of 
Mirht and 


lift\ felt in (lianictcr ; and which even yet, ali-<;r eighty )ears of cultivatiun, is not 
wholly ohiiteraled. At the news of 
this disaster the inland towns were 
aiiandoneil to their fate; the Irocjuois 
torch and tomahawk swept unresisted 
over tlu! face of the whole I'eninsula. 
The sisters, wives, and ilauj,dil(;rs of the 
Neutrals wei-e dri\'en before the con- 
fjuerors away into Iro(juois Land; of 
till' male inhabitants who escaped, the 
more vigorous lied to the country be- 

Junclinii uf the <iraiui ami livim; Ki\crs, Elora. 

yond Lake Huron, while the chil- 
dren, the sick, and tlu; aged, cowered 
among the fens anil forests and 
g;lens of the (irand River. 

In those dark days many availed 
themselves of the shelter of the Klora 
ravines, which seem designed by Nature for a covert. The Grand River rising' i6oo 



feet above tlic sea wanders niooilily throii^fh tlie fens and dark forests of the northern 
townships and tlien at I'"eri4;iis siuhlenly plinii^es into a ih-ep j^orj^e, from whicli it emerges 
about two miles Ixilow the I'alls of I'llora, tlie whole di'scent of tile river within tin 
rttvine heinjj about sixty feet. A little Ix'low I'llora tlu' (irand River is joined by tin 
Irvine, wiiich bursts tiirouj^li a ,i,^or>j;e similar in depth and rivalling tiie other in beauty. 
The lofty roik-wails of these ravines are of magnesian limestone, which, through tiie sol 
vent action of springs antl the ilisruptixc foree of frost, has been burrowed and chiselled 
into endless caverns and recesses. These romantic retreats have; lately been mad( 
accessible and inviting by stairways antl walks ami seats; but in primeval times they 
could only haxc been reached by .some secret pathway. The chasm was then wooded 
to its ver_\ verge, and the doorways of the caves were securely screened from view, 
it is probai)ly to those days of the Iroquois Terror that we should refer sonu; of the 
most interesting of the Indian antiquities that have been brought together in tin 
Museum at I'Llora. in the large cavern in the nortli ,ind a little below the I'alls. 
after clearing away earth and di'bris, Mr. Hoyle found among the remains of a wood 
tire bones of sm.ill ([uadrupeds, which had evidt'iitly been split for tin: mere sake of 
tiie marrow the\- contained, — implying a scarcity of food not ordinaril\' occurring in this 
famous luinting-grotiiid, but |)robabIy due to the risk of encountering enemies in the 
woods. A lad wandering one day, in iSSo, through the Grand River ravine, and peer- 
ing into every opening in tiie cliff in search of the treasures which lilora boys believe 
are somewhere stored up In these rock-walls, found at a spring a few beads belonging, 
as he supposed, to a laily's necklaci'. They provcnl to be violet, or precious wam- 
pum. The searcli ha\ ing Iieen followed back into the cliff, a recess was reached large 
enough to admit tiie iiand. and tilled with earth. The earth when washefl jiekled 
between three; and four iiumlred sii(;ll-I)eatls of the same violet or purple colour. Did 
some Indian beauty, Hying for |)rotection to tiiese natural cloisters, ami taking off iier 
now useless and dangerous jewelry, confide to this secure caskc^-t tlii; necklaces that iiad 
set off her ciiarms at many a moonlight or fireligiit dance? Or, was it some antique 
miser ? —perhaps some Huron refugee, for, unlike; tiie Neutrals, the Huroiis had a 
strong financial turn and a keen instinct for wampum, — did some miser, carrying his 
money witii him in iiis lligiit, lock it \\y in tiiis baiiL- vanlt beyond the reacii of tiie 
Iroquois? A stream trickling through the strata carried out before it a few of the 
beads, and so betrayed the secret which iiad lain fast hidden in the iieart of the rock 
for more than two centuries. 

The solitude which followed this " Harrying of the North " was, if possible, more 
complete than the desolation carried through the North English shires by William the 
Norman. As the Conqueror's path of havoc through Yorkshire could, seventeen years 
afterwards, be traced, page after page of Doomsday Hook, i)y the entry omnia 
zoasta, — "a total waste," — so for a century after the Irocjuois invasion, the I'Vench 



maps have nothinjj to tell us of tlic Wistcrn Peninsula but uutioii ih'tntitc, nation 
ddiruite, — " tribes exterminated." '\'\w. ceaseless wars of the Inxiuois left thcni no 
leisure for colonization. During the period of the Contpieror's occupation we have 
been able, after diligent research, to find but a single irocjuois hamlet in the whole 
Peninsula, and that a group of eighteen or twenty hunting lodges. This hamlet was 
called Tinawatwa ; it commanded the lishing and hunting of the upper (irand River, 
and stood near the western end of the portage that led over from Burlington Hay. 
The husbandry of the previous Indian epoch had made numerous openings in the 
forest, some of which survived to puzzle the U. E. Loyalists ; but in most cases the 
ancient corn-fields and pumpkin-gardens were speedily overgrown by lofty trees and 
dense undergrowth. In this New Forest the very sites of the populous Indian 
towns and villages that witnessed the preaching of the Jesuit Missionaries were lost 
and forgotten, and have only in our time been partially recovered after patient and 
laborious research. Game, small and large, now rapidly multiplied : in 1669 — that is 
within twenty years after the extermination of the Hurons and Neutrals — the Sulpic- 
ian Missionary Galinec describes the Peninsula as merely the stalking-ground for deer, 
and the special bear-garden of the Iroquois sportsmen from Eastern New York. The 
black bear established himself here so strongly that, as lately as thirty years ago, 
sportsmen of another race were occasionally rewarded with a bear in the neighbour- 
hood of Elora ; and their adventures supplied exciting "locals" for the columns of 
The Backwoodsman. 

The outbreak of hostilities between F" ranee and England presently left the Iroquois 
no leisure for hunting excursions to the west, even if they had not been dispossessed 
of their conquest by the nomads of the " Wild North Land." Wandering Ojebway 
tribes, particularly the Mississagas, streamed in from the north, and, by the time of 
the Revolutionary War, had overflowed the whole tract from the Detroit frontier to 
the Ottawa. In the deeds for the extinction of the Indian title, from 1781 onwards, 
the Canadian Governors recognized these tribes as the sole aboriginal races of the 
Western Peninsula ; but we now know that their title rested on a brief occupation, 
and that the historical aborigines were exterminated. To the era of the Ojebway 
occupation is referred the local myth of Chief Kee-chim-a-Tik. The Canadian Monthly 
for 1880 gives a metrical version, telling how a fair Indian captive, devoted to the 
Manitou of the Falls, lay bound on an altar in front of the cave that now bears the 
name of the Ojebway chief ; how, under circumstances of special awe, the chief rescued 
her from the Manitou by declaring her his wife ; but that afterwards, proving faith- 
less, he was shot by an arrow aimed from the wife's ambush in the islet-rock of the 
F'alls, and was carried into the cave to die. Of softer mould was that despairing 
Indian maiden who, Sappho-like, ended her sorrows by a plunge from the " Lover's 

Leap " at the Meeting of the Waters. 





/'/(./'(■/< /{SOI /■: I .ia:i/>.i. 

riic lom.intii- fulfils of l'',l()ra li.ivr Ipitm Ihouj^Iu l)y lln" rail within llircc ur foii 
hours of I iHoiiid. hut lilty yi'iirs aj^o IJora was |)iaitifally fartiicr oil liian Kiilanu'y 01 
l.oih Lomond. An a(l\t ntnroiis lislicnnan sonu'tinn-s mailc iiis way to llic I'alis, and 
tlu'n ruiatid by the wintir lire uiiat visions of lovcline.-ss he had seen in tlie wililcrncss. 

The earliest white setlhf, Koswcll Malliuws, arrived hen; on the first tlay of winter. 
1S17. I lis espericmes iia\c hern recorded, ;' 'y afforil an interesting picture ot 

Canailian pioneer life in W'estein ( )ntario si.\t ,ars a^^o. Accompanied i)y his wifi 
and nine (hiidnn, liie eldest no more than ei^diteen, — Matthews hewed his \va\ 
throiij^h the juni;le ami around f.dlen trees, arrivinj,^, after days of incessant toil, on the 
present site of i'llora. Nii^ht was tlu'n dosing in, .\ lo^-lire was lighted, a nuh 
teut ol hemlocU houj^hs was set iiii. ,iiul, under its shelt<'r, beds of hemlock branches 
were 1 )urinL; the nii^lit a heav\' snow-storm set in, bearing down the woods, 
and striiwin^; the j^round with the branches of lordly trees. I'Ik; morninj^ i)roke }.jrey 
and dismal on the shivcriui^ .md benumbed settlers. The cattle were turned loose to 
browsi', and in an hour M.itthews went to fmd them, but in his search became lost in 
th(! cedar woods. After continued shoutini;' he was tiheeretl by tlu; answering voice 
of his soil, and so found his way back to his anxious family. With the aid of his 
bra\e lads, Matthews built a \o'^ shant)', tillin!,'' chinks with moss, and forminj.; thi- 

roof of I )^s chiselled into ruile i^ar^ovles to > If the rain, liy Maj' a dearinj,' 

had hvvn made, and sowed, and planted : the rich, marrowy soil soon responded with 
good crops of wheat, corn, and potatoes. .\ few seasons onward, and then llvre was 
a surplus for market. liut how to s^t^t there.-' Matthews and his sons improNcd on 
their recollection of Robinson Crusoe by hollowing' out a pine loi^ thirty feet lonj; 
Mai^erly Liunchin;^ this ilu<^-oul a mile and a half below tin; balls, lln'y embarked with 
si.xteen bai^^s ,,(■ wheat, and |)addlint; down to (ialt they found a purchaser in Absalom 
ShaiK', who paid them lift\- cents a bushel in cash. The dui^-out was sold for two 
dollars and a half, .md lhe\ rtturneil home afoot, blitlu; as an\- birds of the forest. 

The trac(;s of a mill near the scene of the canoe-launch remind us that Matthews 
did belter as a rixcr-piloi than as a millwrii^ht. Two of his mill-dams were in (piick 
succession de\(jure(l by icopacks which, with the openin;^'' ol spriii'^^, rushetl down from 
thc! i;orL,re. JCnterprise then lan^juished. With iS;,2 arrived William (iilkison, tin 
foumler of l'!lora. who had alre.uly, in iSii, founded I'rescott. On (iall's atlvice he 
purchased at the (irand Riv<r b'alls a tract of fourteen thousand acres. As the 
novelist informs us, Gilkison's manuscripts proved him to be a man of lilerar\- talent : 
antl there is no doubt the sc(Mier\- inlluenced him in his choice almost as much as the 
mill-privilesj^es and the fertility of the soil. His iiolitical opinions he proclaimed aloud 
in the streets. In a iiiouoraniiiiin attached to his will he makes it imperative on 
settlers to choose between " Hume Street, Reform Street, Cobbett Street, and Mac- 
kenzie Street." He adds: "I will have but one street to the river, viz., Radical 

FRO^r TORoxro, u-i'srw.\i<i\ 





Street. " All these names have disappeared, and, by a cruel irony of fate. Radical 

Street, or its extension, is 
now " Metcalfe Street." The 
Irvine River was named at 
the same time, probably witii 
a double reference to the 
town in Ayrshire and its 
picturesque river, — the town 
where Gait was born in 1779, 
and where, two years later, 
Robert Burns set up his un- 
happy enterprise of flax-dress- 
ing. Elora, the name of tht; 
now large and prosperous 
village that stands a litth^ 
above the confluence of the 
rivers, was borrowed from 
Hindostan, being an early 


English transcription of Elura, 
(iilkison was entertaining some 
friends in the river-cave over against 
the scene of the Ojebway tragedy, 
when the inspiration of tht; name 
Elora was breathed on him by the 
Manitou of the river. Looking 
down the glen iie saw the Itjfty 
rock-walls hewn and chiselled by 
countless winters into pedestal, column, and entablature : he reminded of the 




rock-temples of the Indian Elora, with their lonjr colonnades of sculptured pillars. 
And then, lookinjj towards the I'alls, he saw the cascade and the delicious verdure 
that the sprinsf rains hrinj^ to those famous caves of the Deccan. 

In those days there was scarcely a trace of man's presence in these solitudes. The 
only bridge across this upper Cirand River was forincii by a gitjantic pine whicii, grow- 
ing on the bank above the whirl of the Devil's Fimch Howl, liail been felled by the 
Indians so as to bridge the contracted throat of the ravine. The Indian Bridge con- 
tinued long a curiosity ; it was at length hewn away liy a mother, whose bo)s were 
airing themselves too freely over the chasm. Tlie first visitors to tlie New I'-lora saw 
the forest in all its impressive grandeur. The Hon. .-Xdam P'ergusson was in those 
days looking for a village site. He arrived here on the 7th of October, itS33 ; and 
he records in his journal liis morning ride through tlu: autumnal wootls to the site of 
the future Fergus. — "The day was fine, and the prodigious height of the maples, 
elms, and other trees gave a solemn character to the stillness of tiie forest." — The 
"mill-privileges" of the Grand River were a perilous temptation to sliear it completely 
of its glorious woods. In many places the banks have i)cen shamefully denuded. 
Kind Nature is, however, now trying to heal over tliose wounds, and if Municipal 
Councils would but realize that a manifold source of wealth is wasted when they 
permit attractive scenery to be injured, they would carefully guard these natr.ral 

In its course from Elora to Lake Erie the Grand River falls si? hundred feet; 
this headlong descent suggested to Galinee, in 1669, the earliest European name, f.a 
Rivihr Rapuic. ;\t higii water we may even yet make a ranoe voyage — though 
through more than two hundred miles of windings — to the open lake. In our descent 
we are borne swiftly past the Inisy seats of industry already \isited in Wellington, 
Waterloo, and Hrant. Helow ikantford the river lingers so long over llie mirror that 
retlccts its own loveliness, tliat, in winding through the Eagle's Nest and the O.xbow 
Bend, the channel wanders fourteen miles while advancing three. This was too much 
for impatient forwarders : a canal was cut across by tlie Grand River Navigation 
Company. Then we glide peacefully through natural meadows or romantic girns, — 
the past or the present domain of the Six Nation Indians. The Mission Churches 
and the Indian Institute have done much to elevate the Indians; i)ut, in spite of 
missions, some of the redskins remain slurd\' pagans, still offering the W'liite Dog in 
solemn sacrifice, and still keeping the Feast of Green Corn according to the ancient 
rite. As we approach the village of Caledonia the river suddenly descends seven or 
eight feet, and, passing under the bridge of the Northern and North-western Railway, 
expands to a width of two iuindred yanls. Tiie l)road channel is spaimed by a fine 
iron bridge, which connects the two halves of the village. A mile down the river on 
the left we observe a ruined canal-lock ami a row of decayed houses on the bank. 



This is all that is left ol 
the ambitious village of 
Seneca, whose stir ami 
activity were, thirty jears 
ago, cited as an unanswera- 
ble rel)uke to " the cry of 
riM^n^BHIIKi Ik! \ Jr -»» ~-r'^li' vn^K^H^mii ''/. ''^'''^ '^"^' deca\' ! " Senecn 

t t/l ^Mw Bk t I ^^1^— #^ - ^^feriMBiBBLrTll ' ^^'^'"^ ^^'^^' "'^ ^^^' villages 

createil by the Grant! 
River Navigation Compa- 
ny. Their lugs and 
steamboats used td 
give much animation 
to the landscape : 
lhe\- [)lieil from 
Hrantford to Lakr 
Erie and Buffalo : 
or, turning aside at 
L) u n n v i 1 1 e . the\ 
steamei! through the 
Canal-feeder to tht 
ports on Lake On 
tario. There wen 
_-. — . „ giants in the forcsi 

m those days. Passing through the to\vnshi[» of Dumfries, Gait ran against an 
oak, whose girth at a man's height from the ground was thirty-three feet, whili 





the shaft rose without a branch for cijrhty feet. The mutilated trunics of these 
Titans passed the Grand River locks in ceaseless procession. At Seneca the two siiles 
of the river were joined by a substantial bridi,re. and were frin^ctl with mills and 
factories, — all of which the Nemesis of the I'orest lias swept away cvi'u to their \ery 
foundations. On that grassy mound yonder, around wiiich the stream is still searchinj^ 
for the lost mill-wheel, stood a <;reat saw-niiil siK.'cially ('(piippetl for tlu: ;.;i5^antic tim- 
ber that came down the river. Hut the; finest lumber broui^ht a mere pittance, for the 
whole forest was thrown upon the market. There was no husbandry of the woods, 
no care for the future, no renewal of trees: "After us, the delui^re!" As the wood- 
lands were stripped, there came spring freshets of terrific vi(jlence ; for the winter's 
snow that formerly melted at leisure was now instantly released by the fu'st warm 
sun. These floods rose high, overflowed the banks, ami turned tiie woods into veritable 
parks of artillery: fallen trees were drawn into the swift current, and launched against the 
Navigation Company's works, 
demolishing lock-gates, tlams, 
bridges. The retribution was 
complete : the forest was ex- 
hausted, the river-fountains were 
drained, — and so also were the 
Company's fmances. The open- 
ing, in 1856, of the Buffalo and 
Lake Huron Railway from I''ort 
Erie to Stratford completed 
the Company's disaster. At 
only a few points on the river, 
and only for manufacturing 
pur|)oses, are the constructions 
maintaiivjd. This ruined lock 
at Seneca is a very picture of 
desolation. The canal-bed is 
so silted u]) as to be used for 
a kitchen-garden, — a garden of 
cucumbers. The great oaken 
arm that swung a welcome to 

the arriving vessel, or waved a bon voycis;c to the lake raftsmen, has fallen down in 
helplessness and sheer despair Once the lock-gate braced its massive shoulder against 
the mound of water ; now, withered and shrunken, the mud drivelling from its parted 
lips, it stands there the image of weakness and imbecility. Let us away. Some 
miles down the bank the eye rests with enjoyment upon three noble trees, which may 




be taken as examples of the lofty elms that once dipped their fringes in this river. 
We are now in the district which, immediately after the Peace of 1 783, was settled 
by the officers of Butler's Rangers. During the Revolutionary War, Colonel John 
Butler raised in the Mohawk Valley a Royalist force, made up of cavalry and infantry, 
of settlers and Indians. The Indians were undi Brant's immediate command. Th( 
cavalry were named after their commander, Buuer's Rangers. Half-man, half-horse, 
these Centaurs swept with amazing rapidity from point to point, carrying terror and 
desolation in their scabbards. Having laid no light hand upon the " Whigs," they 
could hope for no forbearance in the conquerors. Ruined by the war, and, like the 
other Loyalists, shamefully forgotten in the treaty, Butler and his officers looked to 
Canada for shelter. While their colonel followed Governor Simcoe to Niagara, Major 
Nelles and some of the other officers accepted an invitation from their old comrade, 
Captain Brant, and settled on the Indian Reserve. To Nelles Brant made the 
princely gift of a beautiful plot of nine square miles. After the usual preliminary 
log-house, a substantial homestead was erected, which, in all essential features, still 
survives, and forms an interesting example of a U. E. Loyalist home of the best class, 
though perhaps unique in size. The floors are carried on heavy squared timbers, 
some of which ride on piers massive enough for bridge abutments. The great cellar 
was quarried out of the solid rock, and was famous all through the Grand River Valley, 
not only for its capacity, but for its generous cheer. Surveyor Welsh, while exploring 
the Grand River in the cold, wet summer and Fall of 1796, describes in his field- 
notes his extreme hardships. In carrying the Government survey through the dense 
jungle that then overgrew this valley, he and his party were left without covering for 
their feet or supplies for the camp-kettle ; and they were finally compelled to retreat 
for the purpose of revictualling. In their destitution they eagerly availed themselves 
of the hospitable roof-tree of William Nelles, who then occupied the homestead. 

After we float past the villages of York and Indiana an express train of the 
Canada Southern Railway thunders overhead. We rest for a few minutes at Cayuga, 
the county seat of Haldimand. Here the Loop or Air-line of the Great Western sud- 
denly converges to the Canada Southern, and for more than a score of miles eastward 
the two lines run side by side. Passing under the Loop-Line Bridge we take a look 
at the County Buildings, which were erected from a design of the late F. W. Cumber- 
land on a plot running out to the river-bank. Then we sweep past pretty river-islands, 
and underneath the bridge that carries Talbot Street across the Grand River. This 
old military and colonization road ranked in importance with Yonge Street and Dundas 
Street ; it ran from the Niagara Frontier to the Talbot settlement, a hundred and 
twenty miles westward, with extensions to Leamington and Sandwich, and a northern 
branch from Port Talbot to London. The " Street " still bears the name of the eccen- 
tric recluse, — military, not religious, — whose Christian name has been both canonized 









iind enshrined in "St. Thomas." Below Tali)ot Street Fkidge the Grand River makes 
a sharjj elbow : a few strokes of tlie paddle ami we pass the fine church of ':\. 
Ste])hcn's, with its tower and spire shadowed in tlu' water. Then past the gypsum 
catacombs tunnelled far back into the Onondaga Inirmation. The river now widens 
to a lake. Before an inland sea became the great mill-pond for the W'elland Canal, 
the Cirand River was banked up at DunnvilU;: and though now rarely used for pur- 
|)oses of na\igation, the great dam continues to furnish \aluable water-power to the 
mills and factories Ijelow. 

I'ort Maitland is at length reached, on the broad estuary of the Grand River, and 
we are now in full view of the Lake. To-day it is a scene of wild uproar, for a 
furious October gale is blowing from the south-west. Under the lash of the tempest, 
the great waves rear and plunge ; then, tossing their grey manes, they are off like 
race-horses for the shore. They are now nearing the land, their flanks white 
with foam, and the earth quivers beneath the thunder of their coming. Just like 
the October day of ' t,},, that rent the rope of sand which had until then anchored 
Long Point to the mainland. A sou'wester banked up the lake into a great water- 
wall to leeward ; then, the wind suddenly falling, the water returned westward with 
a tremendous recoil, breaching the isthmus, and ploughing out a channel nine feet 
deep antl a thousand feet wide. And just like that October day of 1669, when 
Galinee saw Lake I-irie in its wrath, and wrote the earliest notice of these stormy 
waters. Jolliet had discovered and e.xplored the lake but a week or so before. He 
had also found out ami explored the Grand River, — which was to be but the prelude 
to his finding a grander and a mightier river — the Mississippi itself. W'c have already 
witnessed the interview of Jolliet with La Salle and his .Sulpician Missionaries 
Galinee and Dollier. From Jolliet's own rough chart of his discoveries, Galinee made 
a more scientific route-map, and subsequently corrected this by his own explorations. 
Galinee's manuscript, bearing the date of 1670, was a few years ago discovered by 
M. Margry among the Paris Archives, and it su[)i)lies the earliest existing luap of 
Peninsular Ontario ; for Champlain's map and others that followed were only conject- 
ural, except as to the tract covered by the Huron Mission. Galinee's narrative has 
been made accessible in the able monograph of the Abbe Verreau. Well, leaving 
Jolliet and La .Salle, and descending the Grand River with a convoy of ten voyagairs 
and three canoes, the Sulpicians worked along the Erie shore westward, looking for 
winter quarters. They selected for their encampment one of the streams entering the 
lake to the south or south-east of Jarvis,- — doubtless the stream marked R. d' Oilier in 
Bellin's Carte des Lacs, of 1744. Here in the woods, about half a mile back from the 
shore, they spent five months and eleven days ; and during three months of this sojourn 
they encountered not a human being, not even an Iroquois hunter. So unbroken was the 

solitude still, though a score of years had passed since the extermination of the Neutrals. 



/'/('/ rA'/:\()(7-: t.i.v.m.i. 







faces, that tlicy had only to lila/c away as fast as they coiilil load their clumsy 
snaijlnmces ; tlicy niiii^lu c\cii knock ilown tlie ducks with their woodcMi ramrods. 
After the water-fowl had lakeii thc'ir southward lliulu, the winler of iGOg-jo set in 
SI) mild that the |jur\e)'ors lor the cami) woidd onl) iia\e to ^o throui^ii the forest 
and kn<jck Christmas turkeys (jff the branches. Xor was the fruit\- sauce wanting, 
for (lalince enumerates cranberries (/cv a/iciis) anioni:; the; slor(;s in the larder. Then 
there was \cnis()n of three- sorts, and in marvellous alaindanre ; it was st^rveil both 
smoked and fresh. liy way of entree there could lie had for tlu- takinj^-, that tidbit 
of Indian chiefs, -the tail of a |)lr,in|) heaver. lint the bears, — ah, we had forgotten 
the bears! These eiost of all arouse the worthy Sulpician's enthusiasm, for "the)' 
wen; fatter and belter-llavoured than the most s.ivourx' roast-pii^ of I'rance." Every- 
thiuL; called up iricmories of the old home!. The encampment was in a land of \ines 
and walnut trees. After the choice iiieiin of the woodlands had been discussed, these 
quests of fiiir New I'rance tloubtless often lin^iered arijund the rustic table to re- 
member the dear Okl Land 

" In altLT-iliiiiier talk 
.Across \\\ti \vallllU^> ainl the uiiit;." 

tialinee tk'scribes the wiltl i^rape of the district as red and sweet, and as equalling 
in sixe and llaxour the best i'rench grapes. It \ieltled a fidl-bodied wine of rich 


colour, reminding him of the wine of the Graves District Cnear Bordeaux), and quite 
as good. On some bits of sandy loam near Lake Erie, this grape grew in such pro- 


/'/( • / Y 7v' /r'.SY ) ( '/■: CANA PA. 


fusion that twenty or lliirty hoi^^slipads [/),ri-/t/U(\\) of ^ooil wine niit^rlu liave Ijcen niailc 
upon the spot. Altojrether, (|iiotli l-'ather Cialinee, "this country I call the carthl) 
Paradise of Canada (/c /^iirod/is Icrrcsire dii C\i//iii/<!)." 

On I'assion Sunday (March 23), i6;o, the Sulpicians with their t'ovaxf/rs went 
down to the lake-shore, anil there si;t up a cross, hearini^ the arms of Louis \1\'. 
They thus in solemn form took possession of the country for I'rance, while commemo- 
rating their own sojourn in these solituili.-s. The wooden cross must iiave soon 
disappeari!il ; hut they left a more endurintj memorial of their toilsome march in tlic 
fra>.''ments of luu"opean pottery that startled the first English settlers on the lake-front. 
In Li. :ir ea>,^rrniss to enter on their missionary labours, the Sulpicians imprudently 
broke up the encam|)ment, .ami \vitlulri:w from the woods before sprint^ iiad openeil. 
Immediately afti-rwards, they suffered the direst e.\tremities of cold and hunger. 
Easter Sunday was spent on the isthmus that then connecteil the present i-ong Point 
Island to tin: shore. The foragers hail become so reduced !))■ want ol fooil liiat they 
could scarcely crawl into the woods to look for game ; i)ut the missit)naries gave up 
;iart of their own scanty allowance to lend strength to the others, and a half-star\ed 
deer was soon brought into the camp. .St) this forlorn party s])ent Easter Day. 
Through l^asti'r \veek they sul)sisted on a littl(> maize softened in hot water. The 
lake seemed to them to find a malicious jo\- in thwarting tlunr progress. Once a 
tremendous surf, rising suddenly, carritnl off a c.inoe, ami U:ft them to cross half-frozen 
streams as best they might. Then one night, as they were slumbering heavily on I'oini 
Pelee after a march of nearly twenty leagiu!s, a violent north-east wind sprang uj), ami 
the lake swept across the strand, up the bark, and witiiin si.K feet oi where tlu\ 
slept, bearing away with the returning wave tlu; greater part of the baggage and pro- 
visions. The missionaries lost, what was to them of infinitely greater moment, the 
Communion service, without which they could not now establish their intended mission 
on the Ohio. It is plain that Lake Erie was of as stormy and dangerous a tem|)er 
two hundred years ago as it is to-day, when a whole lleet of vessels, like wild swans 
among the lagoons, cower for shelter under the Point. From the days of Jolliet ami 
the Sulpicians until now this wild lake has been the rough nurse of bold adventure, 
and of heroic self-sacrifice. Every one is familiar with the story of brave John May- 
nard, the Erie lake-pilot, whose tiery ileath at the helm Ciough has so powerfully 
described. Hut nearer home, and too little known to Canadians, is the inspiring stor\ 
of the Heroine of Long Point. 

The November of 1854 closed with the storms and bitter cold of mid-winter. 
Among the vessels belated on tlu- Lakt;, was the three-masted schooner. Conductor, of 
Amherstburg, laden with grain to the water's edge, ami striving to make the WellantI 
Canal. Driven before a furious south-west gale, while attempting to round Long 
Point and reach the Bay within, she struck heavily on the outer bar, and then plunged 



luuullonjf into the ckx'p water beyond. I'hc rij^rj^Miij,' still stood ;d)ovc water, and 
alTordeil a tcmimrary retreat to Captain Hack(!tt anil his six saih)rs. Miit even hished 
to the rii^r^rin^r they could scarcely keep iJu'ir foothold. All throiijrh that lont^ nij^ht 
of iiorrors the freezint^ t^ale ke|)t up its weird shriekinif in the shrouils, tleadcninif llu' 
men's linil)s and striking; d(!spair to their h<'arts. Showei's of sharp sleet threshed theni 
as witii a tlail. Malkeii of their prey, tlK- waves seemed infuriated : those lake-wolves 
would iea|) up at the sailors, ami clutch at them, leaving; the white foam of their lips 
on the stifTeiiinjr jrarments. i'rul)' the men were in the very j.iws of death. 

The lonjf sandy isl.ind that t!i(! lirst tlawn disclosed had for its soh? inhabitants 
the lij^lu-house keeper at the Point, antl then, fifteen miles olf, a trapjx'r named Uecker 
with his wife, .AhiLjail, and their yoiniL^r children. The trapper was just then ahsiMit on 
the mainland, trading his little store of mink-skins and muskrats, not one of which 
coulil he spareil to j^et his wife and chiklren i:\iMi shoes or stockinjfs. Mrs. Becker's 
rest had been broken by the storm, and lookinjr out at da)'-break she saw the fra<,f- 
ments of one of the Co/ii/z/i/or's boats thrown up .ilmost at her vt^ry iloor. Instantly 
she was abroail, i^acin^' the strantl, and searchinL,^ with anxious eyt's, the breakers out 
beyond the roadstead. At lenj^th the m.ists of a schooner W('re made out, and dark 
objects ayainst the sk)' ! I'lack to her jxjor board shanty for matches and the tea- 
kettle ; antl then, with naked feet, two miles aloui^ the shore in the (litiless freezing' 
storm. .Soon a i^reat fire of drift-wood was blazinj^ lii.U'li- 1° 'i"'' f''<' ^'i^' priced before 
the tire all day lonL,^ — for, perhaps, cheered b)' this human presence, those mariners, if 
still alive, mij^ht makt; the \enture. To and fro all day long, but still no si<^n ! .And 
now another niyht of horrors was fast closinsf in, — assuredly for them the last ni_L;ht. 
She was a yiant in stature, and she had a brave heart to match ! With her naked, 
benumbeil feet she strode down the shore, across the frozen weeds, across the rous.;h 
shingle, across the spiny drift-wood, t j the water's nth^n. She mit,dit i^et a few feet 
nearer to those unhappy men. Not a monuMit's hesitation, but ri^ht into the freezinn' 
surf up to her arms ! By gestures she flings them wild entreaties to make the effort. 
All this had been seen from tht; mast-head, antl it was now clear that there was no 
boat coming to their relief. They were strong swimmers e\ery one ; but could the 
strongest swimmer live in such a sea?—" Men," said the captain, "our choice is between 
certain death here and possible safety shorewards." — The captain himself would make 
the venture, and, as he fared, the others could decide to follow or, — to stay. Commend- 
ing his soul to God, he plunged into the seething water. How anxiously he was 
watched ! A few powerful strokes bear him far beyond the rescue of his crew, who 
entreated him not to make this useless sacrifice of his life. So far he bears himself 
well: he is gaining fast. But he disappears; he is gone under that tremendous roller. 
Courage, lads, there he is again, still swimming, though not so strong. Ah! he is plainly- 
weakening ; will his strength hold out in that freezing shoal-water? Bravo! he is now 



on liis feet. Hut ulial lias liappi'iicd ? < )li, that tcnililc iindci-iow lias caui^du him ami 


111)!' hull (IdWIl, 

aiul is luirryiii<( him hack to liu' o] 



lie IS lost 

No, tlial iKililc wiimaii dashes into the surf, yjrasps him, an<l l)rin;,4s him said)' to laud' 
Thuii one of the iifw makes the venture. When he a|)i)roach<'s the siiore the caiitain 
will not allow his |)reser\i'r to eudan^cr her lifi; a!L;,iin : he phinj^es into the hreaktrs 
to aid the failing swimmer. Hut the under-tow clutch(;s both, and the hravc .\hij,Mil 
JKis this time to make a double rescue. I'ive time's more, till the last man is landed. 

rii(;n for tiie lire and tin 

tea-kettle to rest( 

life t< 

these half- frozen sail 



lell the\- were aliie to usi 

their hemimlied 



the wa\' to a place ol 


slielt('r : 





her little sl( 



'^AW iilllo them. .So lhe\ 
were teiiilerly cared for, da;, 
.liter- da\'. until a |)assini. 
\essel took them off. and re 
stored them to their homes 


s soon as the castawav 


1 A 

mliersihnri'', w lien 

the \ esse 

lad been o'Alleil 

;i()KM UN i..\Ki'. i:kik 

• iiul iiiaiinei 

1, ll 

le\' did llol 

fail t 

o enlist puhlic lllleresl 


ilf of the 1 


IK- owner o 

f tl 

le \esse 

Mr. lohn .Mc l.eod, --then a 

ber of the Canadian i'arliameiit. 


tial i)iirsc li\ 

d the movement, an( 

oesides raisiiv'' a su 



pruate suhscnption. iiidu 

luceil the (iovernmeiit to allot to .Mrs. lieckcr, fr 

the Crown Lands, a liiiiK 


acres IK 

ar Port R 

owan, ai 


lookiiii:;' out upon the; sceiK 

ol the rescue, 

Ml Cai)tain 


interested the merchants am 

1 shi 



Huffalo, that .Mrs. Hecker was invit(-il over, and, after beinn Icted. was pri'sented with 

a purse- of $i.oo(') to stock the farm n'ranleil by the Caiiatliar 




tlK! tale ( 

if h 

eroism reac 

lied New York, and the 1 .ife-Savini;' Association dc.'coratei 

.Mrs. Becker with their ''old medal 


111 lieu ol the usual written aiknow 




h the heroine could not write. — a photoj^rraph sli 

owiiii/ the iiK'tlal in her 

hand. Abigail Becker now became the theme of .American newspapers and magazines. 
All this to the unspeakable wonderment of the simple-minded, blue-eyed woman her- 

/•AVM/ /OA'OA'/d II7-:.S/ ir.lA'/K 


■If, who, in her stcrliiij^', if 
iilc coiiicil, I""n^lisli, m.iintain- 
il to tin- last, "slu; iliil no 

ninrcii s 

he'll olltrht to, lU) 

inori'ii s 


do ajjaiii 


lor ihi' prcscDt, Icaviiiv^ 
laki.'-sliorc, wc strike inland 

1)\- that l)iMn( 

h of the C 


nmk winch, start mv. 


I'orl l)()\('r, passes tliroiij^h 
tiic county towns of Norfolk, 
Oxford, and I'ertli, then throni'ii 

l.istowel, I'ahnerslon, llarr 


inn, ;ui( 

1 so on to W'iart 

on on 

(leorsjian iiav. At the oiit- 

sel we keep tile I 

\nn (lose 

A koAusna-: .ki;ic.1!. 

on oin- rit^ht, l>ut preseniK' 

the ri\-er l)ecoines so (>ntan''h'd in the railroad that we cross loin' 


(! fs m 

two and a half miles. Ciitti 

iiLr across the corner o 

f llv Xorlolk .\''ricidtnral Societ\'s 

grounds, we enter Sinic( 
\i('ws of the ]\iver l,\i 

As the I 

raui rolls ihroiii^di the town we obtain ])assinj^ 

lis hroad niill-iionds, ol the County Ihiildines, and 

'<.: ■. §;»*■-. :.,y, :.,!....,. . 'u7l^jr»^*^:. 




of llu' I'liion Scliool. Ilif town owes its ori^jin as well as its namn to the visit 
of (iovcriior Simcoc in 1 7c;5. Tlicit' is a local tradition that Aaron Colver, ont- ol 
the Norfolk piont'i-rs, offt-nd for his Ivxccllcncy's accoptana- a basket of watijr-niclons ; 
and that Sinicoi' inarkcil his high ofticial a|>|>ro\'al of the fruit by bcstowiii)^ on the donor 
the best mill-site on the l.yini. W'r arc now in ihc land of hii,d» farniiiiij. 'llu 
Ajjricultiiral and Arts Association of Ontario has of late jears been offerinij a j^oM 
medal for tin- farm which will stand hi)j;hest on fifteen critical tests of excellence. In 
iS8o, in a competition of nine Electoral Divisions, the ^'old medal was awarded to a 
farm near Simcoe ; in i^Si the competition covered six larj,'e IClectoral Divisions, and 
the ^old metlal was won l)y a farm near Wooilstock. The network of railways now 
covering the Connty of Norfolk has created excellent mark(;ts for its farmers ai 
Simcoe, i-'ort Dover, an<l Waterford. 

We enter Oxford County throujjh the " Orchanl Township" of Norwich. As we 
a])proach NorwichvilK; in this timi; of fruit harvest, and see those: fair dauj^hters of the 
West amonjj the tfolden apples and yellowinjj pears, we seem to have found the lonj,^. 
sought Ciardens of the llesperides. Hut the (ioldcn Kussets ami tlu' Memisli 
Beauties are guarded by no dragon ; here all are I'Viends. The orchard-harvest is 
now in full career. The demanils of Canada and tin; United .States are to be sup- 
plied; then some of the choicest fruit will grace the winter sideboards in the stately 
homes of England; the rest will go to the canning factory at Otterville, or to the 
evaporators at Norwichville, Tilsonburg, and Woodstock. I'he numerous milk-stands 
by the roidside remind us that, in 1864, under the guidan( c of Harvey I''arrington, 
this township led the way to Canadian cheese-factories, which have become a special 
industry (jf Oxford, witii Ingersoll as the great cheese market. 

Almost before we are aware, the train bowls into Woodstock. We notice on the 
right a stately pile ^A buildings devoted to the Woodstock College. Here, many years 
ago, an interesting venture in the higher co-education of the sexes was made, under the 
ausjiices of the Baptist Church, by the late Dr. b'yfe : and. with their sati.sfaclory ex- 
perience of the system, the college authorities ;• >« conlident than ever in 
its soundness. By the gift of McMasti 1 \\.\\' Theological Faculty has 
been enabled to assume a distinct exisi .m 
donor himself, — this separation of funci is has 
ary Faculty at Woodstock, as well as into t 
Alighting at the; railw; , station, and sauntering a block northwards, ■ are gratified 
to meet our old military friend, Dundas Street, which, after leavi 1 oronto, we 
found at the Credit River, and then under the alias of the " Goverr Road" we saw 
at Dundas, and soon after at the Agricultural College, Guelph. 1 street will yet 
reappear as the main artery of London, just as it is here the main .rtery of Wood- 
stock. The old homesteads at the east end of the town call up mingled associations : 

was ilicipated by the generous 
rown fresh vigour into the Liter 
Theological I"acult\- at Toronto. 


..SIKfflfef? " 
















thu house and tjroumls of De Mlacqiiif'—:s, shaded by trees of the ancient forest, 
the rectory of Canon Betteridjre, and, near liy, Old St. Paul's, that lonjr listened 
to his eloquent and scholarly discourses; then, farther back, the home of Admiral Drew, 
once the dare-devil Captain Drew of the Caroliuc enterprise. In the central portion of 
Dundas .Street the eye is cauj^ht by the (graceful architecture of New .St. Paul's. The 
interior is in pleasing harmony. Orj^^an practice is proceeding, and we linger to hear 

"The storm their high-!niilt or^ittis make, 
And ihimdcr-niitsit; riilliiif^ shake 
The prnpliL-ts hla/uneil on the pane?.." 

On the streets to the rear, we have a succession of soliil structures : — the County 
Buildings, the large church of the Methodists, the Central and High .Schools. Look- 
ing askance at New .St. I'aul's from the o])posite side of the street is a tine temple to 
the goddess Moneta, whose worship has somehow everywhere surxivetl the general 
crash of ancient mythology. y\nd beside the Imperial Bank is the Market, which 
to-day tempts us with the rich products of O.xford fields, gardens, orchards, and dairies ; 
while over against the market are crowded stores, — altogether a field day for O.xfortl 
fanners and Woodstock merciiants. The street traffic is swelled by heav)- wains of 
home-build, bearing away to the various railway stations the manufactures of the 
town ; — reed organs ; furniture in cane as well as in beautiful nati\e wootls ; .md then 
a miscellaneous catalogue of products which require some classification, or we are 
apt to fall into such incongruities as tweetls and barbed wire, soap and flour, leather 
and cheese. 

.\ few paces westward of the market we reach a 'i\\\^i avenue 132 feet broad, 
shaded on both sides with doulik: rows of trees. It is named after the eccentric 
old .\dmirai whose forest Cliiilciiii lay a few miles east of W'oodstock, and yielded 
Mrs. Jameson, in 1S37, one of the liveliest sketches in " ll'iiihr Shidics and Suviiitcr 
Raiiih/cs." Mrs. Jameson was staying with a family in Blandford, near Woodstock, 
which was then, she tells us, "fast rising into an important town," " One day we 

drove over to the settlement of one of these magnificos, Admiral \' , who has 

already expended upwards of twenty thousand pounds in purchases and improvements. 
His house is reall\- a curiosity, and at the first glance reminded me of an African 
village — a sort of Timbuctoo set down in the woods : it is two or three miles from 
the high I'oad, in the midst of the forest, and looked as if a number of log-huts 
hail jostled against each other l)y accident, and there stuck fast. The Admiral had 
begun, I imagine, by erecting as is usual a log-house while the woods were clearing; 
then, being in want of space, he adtled another, then another and another, and 
so on, all of different shapes and sizes, and full of a seaman's contrivances — odd 
galleries, passages, porticos, corridors, saloons, cabins, and cupboards ; so that if the 





\V(I(II)SI'(I( K. 

outside rcMiiinileil me 
of an Afr-can villa<re, 
the interior was no 
less like that of a 
man-of-war. The draw- 
ing-room, which occu- 
pies an entire hnild- 
ing, is really a noble 
room, with a chimney 










in which they pile twenty oak logs at once. Around this room runs a gallery, well 
lighted with windows from without, througli which there is a constant circulation of 
air, keeping the room warm in winter anil cool in summer. The Admiral has be- 
sides so many ingenious and inexplicable contri\ances for wariuing anil airing his house, 
that no insurance office will insure him on any terms. Altogether it was the 
most strangely pi'-turesque sort of dwiilling 1 ever beiiilil, and could boast not 
only of lu.xuries and comforts, such as are selilom found inlanil, but ' cosa altra 
/)iii card,' or at least '//// rara.' Ihe Admiral's sister, an accomplished woman 
of independent fortune, has lately arriveil from b^urope, to lake up her resi- 
dence in th^ wilds. Having recently spent some years in Italy, she has brought 
out with her all those pretty objects of vir/ii willi wiiich luiglish travellers 
loail the ^iseKes in that country. Here, ranged round the room, 1 founil views of 
Rome anil Naples; hizzi and niarbli;s, and scul])turi: in lava or alabaster; miniature 
cojjies of the eternal .Sibyl and Cenci, Raffaelle's X'atican, &.c., — things not wonderful 
nor rare in themseKes, — the wonder was to see them here." The lady referred to 
was Mrs. luist, in whosi: honour luistwood village was afterwards named. 

Wootlstock is now one of tile towns most faxourtd with railways. With these 
manifold temptations to lu.xurious tra\el contrast the roads over which Mrs. Jameson 
toiled less than half a century ago. " The roads wi're throughout so execrably bad, 
that no words can give you an iilea of them. Wi; often sank into mud-holes above 
the axle-tree ; then over trunks of trees laiil across swamps, called here corduroy 
roads, were luy jjoor bones dislocated. A wheel here and liiere, or broken shaft 
lying 1)\' tile way-siile, told of former wrecks and ilisasters. In some places they 
liad, in desperation, Hung large boughs of oak into the mud abyss, and covered them 
with clay and sod, the rich green foliage projecting on either side. This sort of 
illusive contrivance would sometimes give way, and \\c wi-re nearly precipitated in the 
midst. Hy the time we arrived at Hlandford. my hands were swelled and blistered 
by continually gras])ing with all my strength an iron bar in front of my vehicle, to 
prevent myself from being (lung out, and my limbs ached dreadfully. I never be- 
held or imagined such roatls." 

But after all, the scenery amp'y consoled this literary artist. The forest, "lit 
\\\i with a changeful, magical beauty," the birds, the wax-side (lowers, were continually 
detaining her, and retarding the already slow wagon. Her American landlord at 
Mrantford had kindly volunteered to see her safely to Woodstock. " I observed some 
birds of a species new to me ; there was the lovely blue-bird, with its brilliant violet 
plumage ; and a most gorgeous species of woodpecker, with a black head, white breast, 
and back and wings of the brightest scarlet ; hence it is called by some the /icld- 
officer, and, more generally, the anl' of the i.'oodx. I should have called it the cox- 
comb of the unmh, for it came flitting across our road, clinging to the trees before 


PICTi 'Rl-.SOl ■/■ CANADA. 

us, and remaining pcrtinacioiisl)- in siirht, as if conscious of its own splendid arra\. 
and pleased to be admired. Tiierc! was also the Canadian robin, a bird as iari;c 
as a thrush, but in i)lumajfe and sliape resemblint; the; sweet bird at home ' that 
wears the scarlet stomacher.' Tliere were i^ri'at numbers of small birds of a brijjjlu 
yellow, like cinaries, and 1 believe of the same i^imuis. Sometimes, when 1 looked 
up from the depth of folia<,re to the blue tirmainent above, I saw the eagle sailinjj; 
through the air on apparently motionless wings. Nor let me forget the s])lend()iir 
of the llowers which carpeted llu; wor ds on either side. 1 might have e.xclaimed 
with Eichendorff : 

•() Welt ! Du ^cliMiiu Will, Du; 
M.inn sicht Dich vnr l!liinu-n k.iiiin !' — 

for thus in sotne places tlid a rich embroidered pall of llowers literally /i/'iic the earth. 

There those beautiful plants which we cultivate with sucii care in our gardens, — azalias, 

rhododendrons, ail the gorgeous family of the lobelia, — were tlourishing in wild lux- 
uriance. Festoons of 
creeping antl parasitic 
plants hung from 
branch to branch. 
The purple and scar- 
let iris ; the blue lark- 
spiM", and the elt - 
gant Canadian coliuu- 
bine with its briglu 
pink flowers ; the scar- 
let lychnis, a species of 
orchis of the most tla/- 
/ling geranium-colour ; 
and the white and \ti- 
low anil purple cypripi- 
dium bordered the patli. 
anil a thousand others 
of most resplendent hut s 
for which I knew iw 
names. 1 could not 
pass them with for 
bearance, and my dri 


m^~--~ — L-^ \ 


alighting, gathered for me a superb bouquet from the swampy margin of th 
forest. I contrived to fasten my dowers in a wreath along the front of the wagor 
that 1 might enjoy at leisure their novelty and beauty." 



Such, fifty years ai^o, was the; vesliljuk; of the Thames Valley. But, like the 
venerable cathedrals of l-'laiulers, liie finest of our old forest-minsters were swept 
by the axe of the iconoclast. The Flemish 
ima^e-breakers at .St.'s and Antwerp 
slashed the pictures, but spared the l)iiiKl- 
ings. Our iconoclasts slashed the pictures, 
and ra/ed to the earth the nobk'st of our 
forest sanctuaries. Nave, aisles, and sjjire 
fell before the axe of the pioneer and the 
lumberman. And to the axe was often 
added the torch : so tiiat e\cn the beau- 
tiful mosaic floors were destroyed ; for the 
mould itself and the extpiisite native flora 
that it held were burnt \\\}. Tlie t;rand- 
sons of our iconoclasts are now anxiously 
bethinking themselves how to reco\er those 
majestic woods, and reafforest the; ri\er- "^ 

banks and hill-sides; it would surely also be 
well to try wiietiier those sweet wild-Howers 
cannot Ik; charmed back. .A few braitls of 
barbed wire carried around bits of wild 
wood might, by excluiling cattle, restore 
the lost flora. 

To the im])ressive forest scenery of the 
elder time have succeeded sunny pastoral 
landscapes. The labyrinthine Chateau of 
Vansittart woii-ld now l)e as difficult to find 
as would the bower of I'air Rosamond by 
tlie older Woodstock; the Admiral's de- 
mesne is now a famous br(!eder of race- 
liorses. On the uplands of Blamlford we 
stand on the narrow brim that divides the 

basin of the Grand River from the basin of the Thames. Eastward, the streams 
course swiftly towards Lake Erie. Westward is a gentle slope extending far beyond 
eye-shot, and finally losing itself in the champaign country that is watered by the 
Lower Thames and the Sydenham. \'on favoured land is the Thessaly of Older 
Canada ; a land covered with a net-work of rivers and rivulets, which traverse a rich, 
deep soil; a land well dowered with sleek kine and swift steeds. "Nurse of heroes?" 
Yes; if in the prehistoric times the leaders at the council-fire or on the war-path 





)f tl 

U' same mrttli 


tile I'hicis tliat fDiK'lil cillu' 

r auainst iis o 

r f^ 

or lis 

Wltliin this western tract ol Ontario we sliall find tiie lionie of I'ont 



e slial 


ilso tlie I 

leld where 

ecuinseh stood a 

t 1.; 

\\ when an 

.niilisM sjcneral ran 


a lawn. .S|)i'ar lor spear, eitiier ol tliose Indian iliiels would lia\c proxt'd no ine; 

antajfonist lor the jj^rcalcst 

uuieiit 1 liessalian 

the iiii<'lit\ Ailiilles liimsilf, 


thev IKK 

i ih 

( men 

t of 


in a worthier cause. 

n Its up|)er lourse the I haines liiinis its way o\er the pehhies as it wiiu 



ds th 


the Oxlonl 





) .Street a little to the west of 



•itock ; th( 

some sweet scener\ il passes l)eaeh\ille anil enters inm'rso 


le cMiannc 


isscs throU''h the \ er\- heart ol the town lietwee 

hill terraces which are crowned \»ilh 

prelt\- \ 

he slunioeroiis s 


ess ol the rucr contrasts with hustle o 

f th 

e cheese- 

airs and with the claiiijour o 

f th 

;real iin|)leme 


or\- that skirts tin: wati-r. Onward 

to London, where it receives an altluent from the north, formiiT'- llu 




pioni'er times. 

The r 


alie\' ai)o\e 

.ondoii al 


s river \iews o 





liree miles lielow the cit\', SpriiV'hank forms a favourite holida\' resort, wit! 

most pictiires(|ue approach, whether we i 

each it I)\' the n 

lad or the rixer. 


ere tht 




lakis its nime Irom an exhaustless fountain of pure cold water, which is 

I t 


o the reservoir on '.he lulls, and supplies the ( 

distant cit\-. 



presenth' ent(.:rs tiK! reserves o 

f the I) 

el.iwares and the 




ians, then iflides 

st)ftl\' past the hattli'-sjround of old Morav ian-'Idw n ami thence onwards to Chath; 


It I- 










ven a I 

London the iM\er creeps with a drowsv motion, l)ut helow Chatham, Lather Th 


has fallen into a dee|) sleej), his hosom scarcely heaving' with an unilulation 

In tl 


state o 

f euth 




le disco 

masia he passe- 

f ll 

•ntl\' awav aiu 

ol the ru'er. 


ion o 

1 joins the cerulean " .Sainte Claire. 
ak(N it would he ditVicult to iletect the entr\ 

sailed down the lake in i6(k), and dalinee ascended it in llii 

tollowiULr x'ear, 


neither suspected the existence ol a laiee ri\'er. In 1744 



in, the mai)-maker to 


W.'s |)( 

p.irtmeni ol Marin 

informs us that the river 

had In-eil ex| 


t th 


lor ei''ht\' lea<'ues without the obstacle ol a rapid 

The 'I'hames had 


Is th 

leii ohtamed a name, hut soon atterwards the still water set:ms to have sui^'ireste 


the name of " 1 


Li> '/', 



raiulicr. which presentiv hecaim 

La I 

raiiclic. iinclei 



that cointrtetl Saiiilc Llat 

into "Saint Clair," ami Iau liiic inte 

Cio\'ernor Simcoe's Proclamation of i 

uly 16, 1 7Q2 

ave converted 

rancHc into 

f.a (, 
The ■ 

,/<• h 



The Ouse," permanently transforinec 

which wou 

Id fi 


d Z< 



n this topoeraijliiral edict tlie Goveriu 


ir ])a 

reel led oil 

t 1 

us new 

ro\ nice iiiti 

nineteen counties, and as tlu' heart of the W'l'st 


i'eninsula was still to L^iiirli 

men an 

hiiosl uiiknown 

land, he would walk o\-er th 

'round, and si'i; it for hi 

self, SettiniT out from N'avy Hall, Nia^rara, in the dead of winter, 1793, he drove with 



six military nffici-rs to the 
I'orty-milc Crock. Amonj,' 
his companions were Major 
I.ittlehalcs and Lieutenant 
rall)ot, both in tlic Hush 
of manhood and ea,i,rer for 
adventure in the western 
wilds. 'I'hese \-oun;.( officers 
were soon to l>e separatcnl, 
and tiieir |)atiis in hfe thence- 
forward \\i(k'l\- di\-erL^ed. 
Major Littleiiales was now 
Simcoe's Military .Secnnary, 
and indeeil liis .Secretary of 
State ; after obtaining liis 

army |ii"omotion, he 
recei\'ed a l)aronet- 
c\', and for niL;ii a 
score of years was 
I'nder Secretary for 
Ireland. Of Talbot 
we shall hear more 
anon; for the pres- 
ent let it sultice to 
say thai lu' was now 
Simcoe's Pri\ati! 
Secretarj' and most 





confidtrntial envoy; tliat after service in I'landers, where he won his colonelcy, he soM 
his comniissioii and reiurnctl to tin? Canadian forest, — there to heconie the buildi r 
of the ^reat 'ialijot hii^dnva)-, an eccentric recluse, tlic patriarch of some twenty-eight 
townships, and the tutelar)- saint of St, Thomas. The (iovcrnor's expedition to tlic 
western frontier was to prove of the first consecjuence to tin- i'rovince; and fortunately 
a \mv[ /oiiniti/ in l.ittlehales' writing; has surviveil. it was printed in the Lainuiiaii 
l.llcrarv Mtii^oziiif of May, 1^34; ami it was reprinted in 1861 in the columns of 
some newspapt.'rs ; hut has aj^^ain iiecome scarce ami inaccessible. On reaching the 
l""orty-mile Creek, .Simcoe's party climbed the Mountain and then struck across the 
countr\' for the (iraml River, where the wayfarers were entertained at the Nellcs' 
homestead. Then ascending the river, liie (iovernor was received at the Mohawk \'il- 
lage witli a fen lic joic. Resting at tiie village for three days, Simcoe and his suiir 
attended sersicc in tiie old cliurch that wt- saw at the river-side, and were nnu li 
pleased with the soft, melodious voices of tiie \()ung s(|uaws. Reinforced b)' Brant and 
a dozen Indians, the exjxtlition now crosst'd the water-slunl and descended the Thanus 
N'alley. Winter though it was, Simcoe was profoundly impresseii by the magniticeni 
landscape of river, ami |)lain, and woodlanil, that openeil out before him. 

No surveyor's chain had yet clinked in these solituiles. The remains of beaver- 
dams, recently ilespoiled, were to be seen on the streams. The occasional visitants 
were Indian sportsmen, who coidd doubtless have e.xplaineil the ])ainted hieroglyphs 
on the trees that so interi'stetl .Simcoe's officers; then there were the- half-Indian, 
half-satyr kindred wiio trap])ed the fur-coated animals, and clothed themselves with 
some of th(r s|)()ils; and there was the winter courier bearing despatches from Kings- 
ton to l'"ort I )('troit ; and last and rarest of all, you might happen on the extim t 
camp-fir. of some young exjilorer like Lord ICdwanl Fitzgerakl, already heart-sore with 
disap])ointment, and pining for woodland life and adventure. That romantic younL; 
nobleman, — the tifth son of the first Duke of Leinster and of anciiMit Norman-Irish 
lineage, — iiad ser\ed with distinction as Lord Rawdon's aide-de-camp towards the closi 
of the Revolutionary War, and was sever(!ly wounded at tiie batth; of luitaw Springs. 
Hi' was found on the fic-kl, insensible, b\- a poor negro who bore iiim awa)' on his 
back to his hut, and then; with the most tender care nursed him until he could 
with safety be removed to Charleston. The "faithful Ton)'" was thereafter his in- 
separable companion, on sea and on land, through trackless Canadian forests ami 
whithersoever else a fearless spirit might lead, until an awful traged)- closed his mas- 
ter's career. After some experience of the L'isli Commons and of luiropean travel, 
Lord lulward itk i with a cruel disappointment in love, and though " LIncle Rich 
mond," — who was aiso the uncle of our Duke of Richmond, — pleaded his, tin 
father of his iuaiiiorata continued obilurate. Truth to say, the lady herself |)rovc(l 
heartless; and the whole story reads like the original of Lockslcy Hall. He was off 

FROM roRoxro. wiisrwwRp. 


without even his mother's knowlecljff, to join his n-jrinicnt at St. John's, New Hruns- 
wick. He held a major's commission in tiu; 54th, as Wilham Cobbett, then serv- 
in^f in Nova Scotia as serj^eant-major, ever j,fratefully remembered, for Major Fitzgerald 
obtciined the future agitator's discharge. Lonl Dorchester, (iovernor-Cicneral antl Com- 
mander-in-Chief of tlie I'drces, had been an old admirer of the Ducliess of Lein- 
ster, and naturally indulged her son in his passion for adventure. The first e.xcur- 
sion was a tramp on snow-shoes of a hundred and seventy-five miles from Fred- 
erickton to Ouei)ec through a trackless wilderness. Then westward. Under the guid- 
ance of Hrant, — for whom \m: hail conceived tin: warmest admiration and friendship, — 
Lord Htlwaril traversed the Western i'eninsula, visiting the Mohawk Village, and ex- 
ploring tile Thames Valley by the same Indian trail over which Brant was now 
leading Govt-rnor Simcoe. After leaving at I'Ort Detroit the relief party of which 
iie was in charge, Major I-'itzgerald woulil |)roceed to I'ort Michilimackinac and then 
strike away for the Mississippi, descending which to New Orleans he would hurry 
home to see the fair one on whom he so often ami fondly mused while far away 
in those Canadian forests. But on reaching the Duke of Leinster's residence he would 
frntl a grand entertainment in full career, and among the guests whom etiquette re- 
(juired to be invited he would find the fair (i and Iter linsbaiid ! 

On the 1 2th February, 1793, .Simcoe came upon one of poor Lord Fdward's en- 
campments near the Thames. Three years ago this ill-fated nobleman had returned 
to Ireland, there to dash into the political maelstrom, to {[uicken the dizzy movement 
in the Irish Commons, to become President of the United Irishmen, and, while des- 
perately resisting arrest, to fall mortally wounded, and to die a prisoner in Dublin 
Castle. He was so fortunate as to have Thomas Moore for his biographer. Probably 
his hero's adventures in Canada suggested to the poet his own Canadian tour in 
1804, and so indirectly yielded us the Canadian Boat So/io; The U oodpecker, and the 
poems written on the .St. Lawrence. 

Before the year 1793 was out, the eastern end of the Thames Valley had been 
plotted with townships, and substantial pioneers had been imported from New Jersey. 
Thomas Horner, of Bordentown, led the way into this fair wilderness, and arrived in 
Blenheim while Augustus Jones and his Intlians were still surveying it. Major 
Ingcrsoll also arrived in 1793, and occupied the tract on which has since arisen the 
town bearing his name. 

The- main purpose of Governor Simcoe in his fatiguing winter march, was to 
tmd an appropriate site for the capital of Upper Canada. Newark (Niagara) was 
too e.\|iosed to assault ; the 'Toronto portage was not yet thought of, and when, 
later in 1 793, it was accepted as the site, the Lieutenant-Governor seems to have 
considered the transaction no more than a temporary compromise between his proposed 
(ieorgina-u|jon-Thames and the claims of Kingston as supported by the Governor- 




/•/( / f -A'/SX)! •/;• ( -.IWIPA, 

General Lord Dorchester. On the afternoon of Wednesday tlie thirteenth of Fili- 
riiary. 171),,, the e.Nploriiii; parlN reached the lerlilc (Ulta that la\ ,it the conlitienn' 
of tile norlli and east l)r.iiKhes of the I'lianies. I lere th<'\ " liahed to ohsiT\(' 
the l)eautilul situation. W <■ |>assi'd some ih«'|) ra\in<'s and iiiaile our wi^'wains ii\ 
a stream on the l>ro\\ ol ,\ liill, near a sjiot u liere Inchans were interred; tlie hursiii;;- 
qronnd was of r.irth, ne,itl\ covered wiiii leaves, and uicki'red over. .Adjoininj^ it 
was a lari^c pole with painted liieroj^ly|)hics on it, denolinL; the nation, trihe. ami 
achievements of the deceased, either as chii'fs, warriors, or hunters." i'roin tlic 
eminence where the\' la\ ciic.unix'd, the\' could see the e.Mendcd arms of the Ihamrs 
with their numerous tributaries. I'o the ima>j[inati\'e Indian this ri\er-\it'w siij^i^estcd 
a ^n).fantic elk's head and antlers with their hranches and tines; and Irom this fam \ 
the rivi'r. lon^ before the entry of the l'!iu'o|)ean into the \alle\', was known hy tin 
n.une of . l.<-kinhf-St\-/h- I'he .\nllered Ri\er. 

Ihc situation ;4ri'atl\' impressed the ('io\ernor. .After completiiiL,'' his march tn 
Ui'troit. he hurriedU returned to make a more particular sur\-e\-. so that he w,i>> 
hen- ai;ain within sexenteen days of his lirst visit. The following,'' is the entry in 
Major l.itllehales' Journal: " jd | March, 1 7c)_^ |. Struik the Thames on oni' end of 
a low llat island. The ra|)idity ol the current is so L;reat as to ha\e fornu'd ,1 
ch.mnel through the mainl.uul (hein^ a peninsula), and formed this island. \\C 
walked o\(r a rich meadow, and at its I'xtrcmitv :-eached the lorks ol the ri\i'r. I lu' 
(io\ernor wished to examine this situation and its einirons ,ind we therefore stoppctl 
here a d.;\. lie judoid ii to he a siiu.uion emineiuK' calculatt-il for the Mi-troijolis 
of all Canada; ;imoni^ man\ other essentials it possesses the following- ad\aiUHjjes : - 
command of territory, internal situation, central position, facility of w.iter communi- 
cation u|) .ind down the Thames, superior na\i_L;ation for boats to near its soum, 
and for small cralt probabK- to the Moravian St-ttlement ; to the northward by a 
small |)oriaL;e to the water llowin^ into Lake Huron, to the south-east 1)\- a carryiiiLj 
place into Lake ()ntario and the River .St. Lawrence; the soil luxuriously fertile 
and the land ca])able of beint^' easily cleared and soon put into a state of ajfriculture. 
a |)inery ujion an adjacent hii^h knoll and others on tlu' heiejht. well calculatc-d fur 
the eix'ction of public buildiiiL^s. and a climate not inferior to any part of Canada." 
I )urino the In'st two years of Simcoe's administration the continuance of peace 
with the Lnited States s(H'med \ery uncertain, and while preparini,^ a temporary refuse 
for the Provincial Lej^istature, the (lovernor steadfastly worketl out his scheme of the 
Metropolis on the- I'liaim^s, Ihe river was frozt'n at the time of his visit and foriin '1 
a capital roadway for the dozen carrioles that were sent from l)i-troit to meet him an 1 
his suite. .\s soon as s|)rins^ openetl, Surveyor McNiff was dt-tailetl to take souiiil- 
ini^rs and ascertain wlu'ther navii^ation could be extentled to the Up|)er T'orks ; le 
reported the river "ipiile practicable with the erection of one or two locks." Tn 



i,'ii,inl tli(; approacli from the w<'stt'rn frontier and i-oninian<l the navi),Mli()n of the V \t\tv.x 
.mil Miildlc Lak(;s, Simcnc |iroirrt('(l a dockyard and na\,d arsenal ai ilu- Lower 
lork-,, wliirli he liad pariicidarl)- survived Koili on his march lo Detroit and upon his 
irliirn. In 1793 lie iiad a town |)h)l sur\i\ed at tiie Lower i'orks, whicli tlience- 
forward received the name of Chatii.ini, l)ui such was Simcoe's ciier;jy. that in 1794, 

VlLlURlA I'AkK, 1aiM)ii\. 

and in acKance of tlie survey, lie had a Cio\i.'rnim;nt shipyard established and ,i(un- 
Ijoats already on the stocks. The communication of (ieor^ina with Lake Ontario 
was to be maintained by a \^xv\\\. military road — Dundas .Street — with which by an- 
ticipation we have already bi^come familiar. This road wocdd run direct to thi' naval 
station provided 1)\- natiu'e at the heail of Lake Ontario, -th(; noble sheet of water 
which Simcoe had only recently named Burlinifton \\a\. (_)ne a|)proach to his forest 
city remained still to be co\eretl : — the ap|)roach from the lake frontier on the south. 
• \t the suL(!j^esiion of LieuKMiant I'albot, over whom woodland life was already irain- 
iui^ a fascination, the (Governor explored, in tlu; autiunn of 1 7g ;, the north shore of 
Lake Erie, and selected the site of a ijjarrison town near the headland which had pre- 
viouslv been known as Pointc ii la Biclic, but which was now named Turkev Point. 



/'/( /CA'/uSVC/: ( I.V.I /K I. 

. Ji 

riic liciidland coniinamlcd ilif l)a\ and roatlstcad ol loii^ I'oiiii, wliicli lall<r Simcoi , 
in liis fondness for transpl.intin^ I'.nv^lish names, called North Idreland. I'liis j,r;irris(iii 
town to lia\e lOMiniuniiation with the easti-rn fmnlier liy a military road, and tin- 
wliole north shore of I. .ike I'.rie was to he coloni/ed with I'nited |jn|iire I.oxalisis 
of tile most inui'm|iromi'-inL; kind. In short, Simeoe's design lor (ieor^ina (l.ondohi 
was ti) m,ik<' it. not onl\ the seat of ^overnmeiu, luit the military ci'ntre of tli • 
i'rovini'c. and the eentre of material resources. 

All the (iovtrnor's preparations were aclivcly jjroceedinj;, when in i~(/'> lie wai 
iine.spi-cledly tniiisferred from I'pper Canada to the West indies; and on his di . 
parture his |)laiis fell into complete disorder. I he de\elopment of London, Chatiiani, 
and indeed of the whole Thames X'alley was arnsted for an entire j,feneration. 
Robert tiuurlay's Shitisd'ca/ .Ihokii/ — c()mmenc<d in 1S17, and piihlisheil in iS^j 
j^ives a deplorable picture of the staj^nation of the I'rovince, and of the maladmin- 
istration of its public affairs. (ioiirlay was himself a larj.;i' ianilowner near tin- 
riiames. and beyond the infurmation supplied by township meetinj^s he had ampir 
personal reasons for undi'rstandins^ the subject. 

We have seen that Simcoe's lirst tliouL,dit in namini^ his capital, was to offer 
a compliment to (ieori,fe III. and call the cii\ (leor^nna, — a name still preserved in 
a township on Lake .Simcoe. Hut this western river hail been n.imed the Thame-^, 
and it secmeil an ob\ious corollary that the metropolis on the Ihames must be 
London. Then this sai^acious (iovernor felt how the old names pull on one's heart- 
string's, .ind it was doubtless jjarl of his plan to charm i'Jis^dishmi'n to his I'roviiKc 
1)\' the meri' mai;ii- ol those historic words. Were he now to rixisit this spot after 
ninety years of absence, he woulil be rejoiced to tind that his feelinij^s had been sn 
Well understood, and that his Londoners had e\-en " bi'tti:red the instruction." Afii r 
he L,'ot o\-er the astonishment caused by the steel roadways, and Ijy the " liri - 
wagons," as his Indians would ha\'e prom|)tly called the locomotives, while .Simcoe 
was fumblinj;' about for a wonl, he would tr\ to discover in all this marsellous tran- 
formation the old natural features of the "I'pper L'orks." lie would (inil tin- 
rich alhnial nu:adows which he |)aced with his NoimilJ officers have yieldetl an abuii- 
tlant harvest of suburban \ illas, anil now bear the familiar names ol W'estminstiT and 
Kensinj^ton. To the north he would miss the billowy sea of ilark i^reen forc'st which 
fornii'd so marked a feature in the landscape of his day; h(; would find that the shad- 
owy aisles throiij^rh the "Pineries" have been succeeded by a net-work of hi}^diwa\s 
whose names woidd startle Simcoe by their very familiarity, -Bond .Street, and Oxford 
Street ; I'all Mall, Piccadilly, and Cheapside. Indeed, with the street names before hi-^ 
mind, ami the sweet chimes of St. Paul's linj^iirini,' in his ears, he would often dream ei 
the ancient city besidt' the oliler Thames. The illusion would be assisted by the yreat 
warehouses, breweries, foundries, and factories. As he last knew this place, there wa . 





not a sioii of liiiiiian |)re.sence here, except 
tile Indian iihanlasins i-xi'cutcd on tlu- tri't.'s 

in charcoal and xcrniihon, men willi ilccrs' heads, and tiic rest. In Iiis stroll up 
Richmond Street he wdiikl tiiul nuicii to iletai'i him. lie would naturall) think th.e 
street named after the statesman who was his own contemporary, and lu- would have 
to lie informed that 'lie name conimeniorales that duke's nejjhew, the ill-fated Gov- 
ernor-(ieneral of Canada, who died of Intlrophobia on the Ottawa. W'hcjn last at 
this Canadian London, .Simcoe restetl in a wiLjwam uTider an elm-bark roof, which 
Brant's Mohawks had imi)ro\ isetl. Now, without wandering many yards from the 
railway station, one may find comforts and lu.xuries such as the Royal I'alaces of the last 
century could not have supplieii, and such as our old-fashioned (jovernor might possibly 
denounce as enervating. The maze of wires converging to various offices would have 
to be explained, and barbarous words used that were not in "Johnson," the standard 






dictionary of '^'imcoc's day. I'Voin his 
Journal \\c know already witli 
Ills iiiinil's rye lie saw jjiiljlic hiiildings 
occupyinjf the risinsr i^round, )-et \v(; fanc\ 
he would he surprised at th(! number and 
the (|uaiity of the public and ^///(/.v/-public build- 
ins^fs that in this \ounjfcity he mij^ht view w'th- 
out leavinji^ Richmond Street. — the City Ha'l. the Opera House, the Post Office, 
the Custom House, half-a-dozen nobk I^iiik Huildin^N, the stately IVotestaiit 
Churches and the prreat Catliolic Cathedral. i-'arther north he would find the 
Orphana},'es, — Protestant and Catholic, Hellmuth Collet^rc, and the Western I'niver- 
sity. .And just beyf.nd the city limits a \ asi \)\\v of I'ro\ incial buildings would 
rise into view, — a village, nay, a whole town of poor insane folk. l)i\crging into some 
of the parallel thoroughfares, Simcoe would be much ])uzzled by the names Wellington 
and Waterloo; he would ha\i' to learn all of Wellesley's career, except his Indian cam- 
paigns; and then he would understand how a drowsy Belgian hamlet came to lend its 
nauie to bridge and street in Old and New London. \\. the name Talbot Street he 




would certain!}' inquire as to tlie subs('(|ti('in career of the youn<j; tiiajnr whf) had been 
his |)ri\ate secretary, and wiioni l)y iiis letter to Lord llobart. Sinicoe helped to his 
first township on Lake L^rie. I'he ijeciiiiar architecture of the Middlesex (ail, — one 
bloc!; westward, —would certainly catch Siincoe's eye. and he would he much amusetl 
to learn that Talbot had per])etrated a miniature of Malahide Castle, tln' home of the 

1 .ilhot ; since the days of the i*laiitan'enc!ts. Simcoe would |)rol)alil\' feel some secret 
chagrin, because tlu' street that bears his own name is uot that " where merchants 
most do conjijrejfate ; " but he ou^ht on the other lian<l to be well cousoUhI by a walk 
thnniL,di the matrniticent thoroughfare, — his oUI\ road. Dundas Street, — which 
here ;jfrandly concludes the " (iovernor's" with buildinu^s that he woulil certainly 
have esti-emed the vi-ry palaces of traile. 

Of a siunmer's e\enin!^r the boat-houses at the foot of Dimdas Street are astir with 
oarsmen who take the river in the oloamini,r and the moonlight. In <,foo(l sooth, the 
water is no lonf,rer of the crystalline purity it was ninety or lift\ \ears since, when our 
Thames was as \et scarcely \c;.\ed by a nill-wheel. I)enham wrott' of the Elder 

Thames, nearly two centuries antl a half ai^o, these famous lines ; 

"Oh. ciMild I llmv liki' iluM', mill ni.iki- lliv stream 
My j;rtMt cxTmpIo, as it is iii\ 'liuiiu' ' 
Though deep, yet clear, thmi^li gentle, yet not >iiill : 
Stroiij^ ^^ilh(>al ra^e, without n'eltlnuini; full. 


But Thames pirc and Thames fils have alike suffered from chemical works and 
their kindred: their foam is not amber, nor vet ambert,rris : and in sailinj^ on either 
we sh -.11 do well to take Denhain's advice and /•((/ our eyes on I lie s/iore : — 

' Thoiiijh uiih those streams he im resetnhlaiice hold. 
Whose toain is amber, aivl their {;ravel mild. 
Mis yeniiiiie and less guilty wealth I' explore, 
Seareh not his bottom, bill survev Ins shore." 

Until two ,ears a<jo our Canailian Thames brought to mind onl\- ronipntic 
scener\-. and merry-making;', ami joyous holidays. Then a terrible M-;iL;eily befell. One 
ol the toy-sti:amboats that plii-d between London and :'>prinu;bank was strui^'j^lins.'' to 
brinu; b.ick some si.\ hundreil of the e.scursionisls who had ke|)t the (jueen's !5irth- 
day by the 'Thames-side. Soon .titer leavim.^ .SprinL,djank the I'ictorla listed witii 
an ominous lurch and strain ; then bewail to till. The rush ol tlu' jtassenj^ers on 
ib.e iiijper tleck across the vesst'l snappeil the stanchions like pipe-sti'Uis, and brought 
the whole upper-works with their liviuL.' fri'iirht upon the hel|)less crowd beneath. 
They all sank toj^et'ier. Of the si.\ hundred souls on board more than a third 
perished. After that sorrowful sun had set, the search in this deep and dark ri\fr 
went on with the aid of yreat fir"s bla/,in<; on the banks and petroleum torclies 


\ t, 



tlarint^ and llashiny; distrartcdly hither and thither on the water. The scene on thai 
awful ni^ht niiLjht \i\idly mall the ancient (ireek poet's ilescri|)tion of the vestilnih 
of the "dank I louse iif lladi's:" the waste siiort' and the i^rovi's of i'ersepiioni-, 
the poplar-trees ami the willows; the dark Aciieron, the I'lame-lit I'lood. and 
Cocxtus that Ri\'er ol W Cepini;'. Miilni^ht hront^ht the solemn procession of the 
dead \\y the stream, and tJien the terrible recojrnition at tiie lantlino. ^'et death 
had dealt 'gently with most of tliose dear ones: they sei-med to have but falkm into a 
peacefid slumber on the soft Ma\' yrass. The pain and the aj^jony were for the li\in<;. 
That nitjht carrieil mournini:,^ into ;i thousand iiomes. When the nt'\\s thrilled 
throui^h the world, a universal cry of symi)ath\ arose; from the Royal Palace to the 
cabin all claimed a share in the ^rief of this bereaxcd city. 

Of th<' many railways which brin_if rich tribute to Lonilon. that arriving from 
the shore of Lake l'"rie by way of .St. Thomas tajis a district of much interest as 
well as resource. Li'avin'4 London, and holdiuL;- our way along tjie gentle rise which 
forms the water-shed of the rich townships of Westminster and Yarmouth, we hnd 
on reaching St. I'homas that wt; an; looking down from an escarpment of consitler- 
able elevation. I'Vom tlu' western I'dge the city commands a magnitlcent outlook. 
As far as the eye can reach, country villas and trim farmsteails staml out in relief 
against graceful bits of wild-wood, or are onl\- Jialf concealed by plantations of di-ep 
green spruce and arbor vita'. InterxcMiing ar(! broad stretches of meailow. or long 
rolling billows of har\est-land. Down in tlu; deep ra\ine at our feet winds a beau- 
tifid stream, which has all the essentials of romance, e.xcept the name. W hen, hall 
a century ago, Mrs. Jameson warndy remonstrated against " Kettle C"ret;k, " old Colonel 
Talbot ple.uled that some of his tirst settlers hatl christened the stream from tind- 
ing an Indian camjj-kctttle on the bank, antl that really he had not thought it 
worth while to change the name. The Canada Southern Kailwax' is carried across 
the Creek and its di/.zy ravini; by a long wooden viaduct which contains a \ery 
forest of spars. The growth of .St. Th.omas has been much proir -letl b\- this 
Southern "Railway, which, — originally projected b\ W. A. Thomi. son, -received, after 
wear\' years of solicitation, support from Courtright .uid D.uiiel Drew, ami tinally 
reached a permanent basis under the mig' ler dynasty of the X'anderbilts. Its alli- 
ance with the Credit Valley road gix'es St. Thomas the .uKantage of a ilouble through 
route east and west. The company's car-shops ha\e created a hixc of imlustr\- at 
the (eastern end of Centre; Street. TIk; adjoining station is one of the finest in the 
Dominion, and r( mimls one of the large structures in Chicago and New ^'ol■k. Com- 
petition for the .American through-freight brought a branch of the (ireat Western 
from ( dencoe to St. Thomas. 'This Lo(.p or ".Air" Line jjasse.i onward b\ .\ylmer. 
Tilsonburg, Simcoe. and Jarvis; then, as we have alreads' seen, conxerges to the 
Canada Southern at Cayuga; whence the two rivals start on a fifty-mile race for the 

/•7v"(^J/ /0K0X70, ll7{\/ir.lA'/l 

5 ' .1 

International l^riduc at Hiiffalo, hlowini^j steam 
into each ollicr's faces almost all the way. 
Tile I,()()|i Line ^nvcs St. Thomas tlu' ran; 
advaiitaLje of a liiird through-route tasl and 
west. 'I'hen hy the railway on which wt; 
havi! just travelkd there: is easy access to 
Port Stanley which, only eit^lit miles distant, 
is thi; chi(.:f harbour on the north shore of 
Lake Mrie. 

The development of .St. Thomas into a 
railway centre has carried with it threat ma- 
terial prosperit) ; the haunts anti 






iV:, III 






At St. Thomas \sv. are in the lii-art of the " Talliot Country." The city's 
main artery is the same Talbot .Street which seventy miles eastward we found cross- 
ing the Grand River at Ca\uga; and which, westward, we should fmd traxersiriL; 
the counties of Kent and Kssex, finally runniny^ out on the Detroit River at Santl- 
wich. Roth the ".Street" and .St. Ihomas itself take their name from the youny; 
lieutenant whom we saw with (iovernor Simcoe cxplorini,^ a site for London in the 
winter of 1793. As in St. Cathariiu-'s and some other i)laces localh' canonizi^d, the 
"Saint" has been thrown in .for euphony. Perhaps, too, the voluntary hardships to 
which Colonel Talbot devoted himself may have suggested a comparison with his 
famous namesake of Canterbury. 

From the lookout at I'ort .Stanley Ve cari discern, sev<'n or I'ight miles west- 
wartl, Talbot Creek and the spot where this military hermit renounced the world of 
rank and fr.?hion and entered the wilderness, there to abide with brief intermission 
for nearly fifty years ; — the spot also where after a stormy life he now peacefully lies 
listening to the lap])ing of the lake-waves upon the shore. Talbot was two \ears 
younger than .\rthur Wellesley, — the future Duke of Wellington, — and, while still in 
their teens, thi' young officers were thrown much together as aides to 'Talbot's relative 
th<; Mar()uis of Buckingham, then \'icero\- of Ireland. The warm friendship thus 
formed was kejit up to tlu' end of their li\-es by correspondence, and by Colonel 
Talbot's secular \isits to .\psley House, where \\(\ alwa\s founti Wellington ready to 
back him against tin; intrigues of the Canadian T'xi'cutive. Through Simtoe's influ- 
ence Talbot obtained in 1S03 a townshij) on the shore of Lake lu'ie ; the original de- 
mesne grew in ha'f a century to a princi|)ality of about 7«).ooo acres with a [jopu- 
lation of 75,000 souls. 'There was an -Arcailian simplicity about the life of these 
pioneers. The title-deeils of the farms were mere pencil entries by the Colonel in his 
townshi]) maps ; transfers were accomplisheii 1)\ a i)iece of rubi)er and moie pencil 
entries. His word of honour was sutificient ; ami their confidence was certamly 
never abused. 'The anniversary of his landing at I'ort Talbot, — the 2Isl of ^L^y, — 
was erected b\ Dr. Rol]ih into a great festi\al which was long kept u]) in .St. 
Thomas with all honour. Immediately after this brief respite the hermit would re- 
turn to his isolation, in which there was an odd mi.xture of aristocratic hauteur and 
savage wildness. The acquaintances of earli(M life fell away one by one, and there 
were none others to fill the vacancies. While iTeating thousands of happy firesides 
around his own ' .-arth remained desolate. Com[)assion was often felt for his 
loneliness: his nephews, one of them afterv.ards Cieneral Lord .Au'ey of Crimean 
fame, — attempted to share his solitude : but i.i vain. Then his one faithful servant 
Jeffrey died. 'The recluse had succeeded in creating around him an absolute void; 
for we lake no account of the binls of jjrey that hovered about. Wellington, his 
first companion and the last of his friends, was borne tcj his tomb in tlie crypt of 


FKOM 7VROA7V, ll7uSVll.l A'/). 


Si. I^iul's amid all the maj^mifkcnt wot; of a State funeral, and with the profound- 
cst respect of a i^n-eat empire. Three months liti^r, poor I'albot also died. It was 
i\\r. depth of winter antl bitterly cold. In the projjfress of the remains from London, 
where he died, to the (jiiiet nook by the lake shore, the deceaseil lay all nij^ht nt-^^- 
lecteel and forsaken in the barn of a roailsitle inn. The only voice of mournintr 
near his coffin was the wailing- of the night-wind. Hut, in that solemn darkness, *he 
pealinif orj^an of the forest phne-d more toiichinij^ cadences than ma)' be found in a 
a retiuiem of .Mozart or Cherubini. 

What was the myster\- in this lonely man's life, that could induce a handsome 
colonel of ancient ami noble family tt) forej^jo at thirty-one all his advantai^es oi per- 
son, rank, and station, to ])ass many )ears of e.xtremest hardshi]) in the wilderness, 
•nid after all only i^^ain an old a<^i: of sore discomfort, and fmally an unh(jnouretl and 
forgotten grave? His own answer was, that, when he was young and romantic, 
Cluu'le\oi.\'s description of this I'^rie shore had cast a spell ui)on him. 

Hy ortler of Louis .W'., this learned Jesuit, who was presently to become our 
earliest historian, made a tour ol observation through .\ew I'rance. I'ortunately for 
lis, he kept along the north shore of Lake V.r'w, and recorded his obser\ations in a 
Joiinial which took the form of correspondence ailtlressed to the Duchess tics Les- 
cliguieres. The seventeenth letter is ilated at I-"ort Ponchartrain, Detroit, 8th June, 
17JI. W'hik; passing the estuar)' of the Cirand Ri\x'r ( /.<? iiiaiidc Rirurc]. Charle- 
voix remarked that though it was the 2.Sth of May the trees were not \et (jul in 
leaf. Then past Long Point ( /.<? /.oiij^iic I'oiiih) and its cloutls of water-fowl, and so 
westward oveT a (piiet lake and water as clear as crystal. The e.xplorer's part\- 
encampeil in thi' nol)le oak-wooils where Talbot afterwards found a hermitage and a 
grave. Charlevoi.x was charmeil with a life that recalletl the wikl freetlom of the 
Hebrew Patriarchs; each day brought an abundance of the choicest game, a new 
wigwam, a fountain ol pure water, a soft carpet of green swaril, ami a jjroiusion of 
thi; loveliest llowers. 

The fourth of July brought Charlevoi.x to Poiiilc IV/cc. where he chietly re- 
marked copsf^s ol ri-d cedar. This Point, it will be remembered, had witnessed the 
great tribulation of tlie worthy bathers Cialinee and Dollier in the S|jring of ifajc, 
and so hail been calletl Poiiitc aii.v /'hrs. At Charlevoi.x's visit the headland had 
acquirt:d its present name, but he throws no light on its meaning. It was then a 
rare bear-garden: more than /oz/r /ni //i/ra/ haura had been killed last winter (172C-1) 
upon the Point. . r^' 

Sixteen miles to the south-west of Pointe Pelee lies Pelee Island, which, — with 
the exception of an islet of forty acres two miles still farther out in the Lake, — - 
lorms the most southerly po.ssession of the Canadian Dominion. The temperature 
is so warm and equable that sweet potatoes are grown, cotton has been found to 







thrivi-, rlu; delicate Is- 
alx'lla and the late- 
ripening' Cat;i.\\l)a iiere 
reach tlieir hitvhest 
flavor and perfection. 
Six miles to the south lies another faniotis vintiyard, Kelley's Island, which terri- 
torially l)(.-lon,i,fs to Ohio. In Charlevoix's lime two of these islands were specially 
known as Rattlesnake Islands, and all hore a viperous re|Hitation. Apparently 
with excellent leason : {ox Captain Carver, in 1767, and Isaac Weld, thirty years 



later, found th(!m fairly hristlin^r with rattlesnakes. 'I'hc very islands tliat in our 
lime are the most dclij^ditfid of hcalth-n sorts were in the <hiys of the early trav- 
< Hers held to l)reathe an envenomed atm()S|)here. Carver, with charminiL,^ credulity, 
iclls of a " hissin^r-snake," eij^hteen inches lonL,^ which particularly infested these 
islands : " it blows from its mouth with j^n-eat force a subtile wind," which, " if ilrawn 
in with the i)reath of the unwary traveller, will infallilily hrinj; on a decline that in 
a few months must prove mortal, there hein^^ no remedy yet discovered which can 
counteract its baneful influence ! " 

Charlevoix entered the Detroit River an hour before sunset, on the 5th of 
|une, 1 72 1, and encamped for the nij,du on "Hois Blanc." The island had already 
5,r()t its present name, and was, a lumdred and si.\ty years ago, as it is now, "«;/<* 
trl's-hcllc isle." 

In 1796. when ]'"ort Detroit passed under Jay's Treaty from Enijland to the 
United .States, the i;uns and military stores were; remo\ed to a ni'w fort whicli the 
lui^dish engineers had hastily erected, eighteen miles below, at the mouth of the 
river. A s(|uare ])lot, sufticient to receive three regiments, was enclosed and de- 
fended by ditch, stockade, antl rampart; and tiie basti(jns at tlu; four angles were 
heavily armed. Out; face ran parallel to the river-bank and was |)ierced by a sally- 
port, bort Maiden has witnessed e.xciting and troublous times, but soon its ground 
|ilan will be as difficult to trace as the |)lans of the niound-buiklers of the Ohio. The 
stump <)! the flag-staff is now silenth deca\ing in the grass-plot of a ])rivate de- 
mesne, like a maimetl xcteran in a ipiiet nook at Chelsea; the stockatle and ditch 
have disappeared ; the ramparts themselves have melted awa\- into gentle slo])es of 
green sward. The untamed wildness ot the river-banks and islands as they were 
seen by (ialinee, Charlevoix, and W'elil. has been succe(;ded by a softer landscape of rare 
loveliness. The screen of white-wood forest, from which iiois Blanc took its name, was 
cut down in the Rebellion of 1 S ' - -S in order to give the guns of l'"ort Maiden an 
unrestricted sweep. The ri\er-\'iew from .\mlu:rstijurg thus became enlarged and en- 
riched, taking in the beautiful Cirosse Isle and the rich wooillands on the farther bank 
of the Detroit. The town was nanu'd in commemoration of (jeneral Lord Amherst, 
Wolfe's Commander-in-Chief in the succt'ssful cam|)aigns against Louisbourg and Ouebec. 
I'he new fort was visited in 1797 by Isaac Weld, some of whose most interesting 
sketches are dated iron'. "Maiden." He came up Lake Krie with a sepiadron of three 
war-vessels, one of them chargeil with presents for the Indians. On the first night 
after his arrival, just as he was reiiring to rest, he heard wild plaintive music borne 
in with the midnight wind from the river. Taking a boat for Bois Blanc, and 
guided by th(' light of a camp-fire, he found a parly of Indian girls "warbling their 
native wood-notes wild." A score of youi.g stpiaws had formed a circle round the 
tire and, each with her hand around another's neck, were keeping time in a kind 


1^ : 



i m 





p/c '/('R/isQi/-: (. I.V.I P. I. 

fornicil the onlirstra fcjr this ilioral ilamc, and 
niarktil tln' lime will) nulc kcttlc-ilrunis. I lie liulian warriors on the island had In in 
fornicriy settled near the Wahash, and were ul tliosc tribi's that six years a^o had cut 
to pieces the arin\ of lii'iieral St. Clair, the .t;(iut\' j^ranilson of the liarl of RossKn. 
The red-men had since iteen tamed l)y the nimi)li! (ieneral Wayne, — ".Mad Anthony," 
whose redoubt now commands the rixcr below Detroit, — l)ut several Indian families 
hatl made ;^ood their retreat with .St. Clair's spoils, antl were! then actuallx' encamped 
under his canvas on Hois Blanc. 

rile earliest detailed exploration of the Detroit River is Galinee's, in the Spring 
of 1670. thonij;h we know that jolliet had in the previous Autumn mai)ped his way 
down from the Sault Ste. M.irie to the mouth of the (irand River. The mission- 
aries Galinee and DoUier had been mocked and thwarted by the stormy waters of 


iROM roRoxro. wi-.srwwRn. 



Lake Eric ; finally, ciic nii^Iu, l)y a sicaltlu iiiioad (in il 

ic poor exhausted hiilpi- 


tile Lake hail I'lKhed the alt, 

ilic hail 

ks of tile Ohio. To tl 

ir-sei"\i('e whiih was to have cai 
.f t 

rried the I'aitli t( 

le iiiiiKis (il tliese <aniest, smiple-iniiKled men it was 


that the Powers of Darkness were warrins^ through the ver\ ( leintius the 


■l\es against tli<- advance of the Cross into heatiiendom. 

le missionaries ascend 


the Detroit, found near the |)resenl lort W'.iyiie 

a sacr<'d camp-<'roiind o 

f 111 

ri'U men. 

to he no 

Within a circle ol numerous lodj^cs was a j^reat stone idol which proved 
less a divinit\- the Indian Neptune of Lake I'.i 

the Ma'-.itou that 

• It will could rouse or (|uell those perilous waters. rile idol was lormed ol a rude 


lith. to which Indian laiicx attrihuti 

a human hkeness, the tealures lieiiisj' 

IS, a not more artistic (h\iiii 

tv tl 



hel|ied out with \-eriiiilion. on the whole, perlia] 

our own forefathers w()rshiii|ied within the Driiidical Circle at Stoneheni^e 

Indian Neptune was entreated with sacrihces, with peltries, and with presents 

of ^raiiie, to ret'eixc j^jcntK' lh(' 

frail canoe, and pros|)er the 

nil mans xcnaire o\-er 


(laiiti'erous i',rie, 

ihe Iroiiuois 

.f C 

ol liaimees 

jiarty urL^ed tht: 

missionar\' to perlorm tlie cus- 

tomar\- sac 

rilices to the Manit 

le wortiu' la 

thv father h; 


Id made 

up his mind that this heathen 
(lemon was at the bottom of 


',rie disastt'rs. and 

was e\en now tr\iii!^ to starxe 
the missionaries to death. I.i- 

kinir an a.xe, 

le smote tile k 


to f 

raii^ments ; then 

asliiii"' his 


canoes toj^ether he laid \\\v. 
torso across, and paddliiiL;' out 
into the river, he liea\ed Nep- 
tune overboard in mid-channel, 
where the venerable Manitou of 
Lake L>ic still reposes, — unless 

some steam-dredj^e has scuftled him into its miid-box. Curiously enoiisj^h, the \'cry 
(lay that witnessed this daring" iconoclasm broui^ht abundance of food and a cessation 
of hardshijis. Two centuries aj^o we should, e\ery one of us, like C.alinee, have 
thought this somc^thint^ more than a coincidence. 

In early L'rench ex|)lonition the Missionary irenernlly outran the Trader, though 






Pi ' 



ConimercL" often hiinjj closely on tli(* skirts of tht Church. Within a cU-cadt- of 
I'athv'r (laliiKc-'s hont with the Manitoii. La Salic had dtnlicatcd to comnurcc this 
frontit:r liiain of ri\xTs as well as the two j^rcat iiilanil seas that are joined i)y these 
shininjf links of silver. 

Ni-arly ten years ha\i' passed since we saw La Salle making the first explo- 
ration of Lake I'Vontenac (Ontario), antl discovcrinj^ Niaj^ara River and lUirlinj^ton 
Ikiy. The yoiinj^^ Canailian, Jolliet, whose romantic interview witii La .Salle we wit- 
nessctl near tiu' dranil Ri\i'r, has since found the Mississippi, anil, in company with 
the hravi! I'ather Marquette, has traced that niij^dity llood down to within a coui)le 
of ilays' journe)' from the mouth. I lis ambitions rival. La .Salle, has em- 
barked on a vast commercial enterprise in which the (iovernor-deneral, Count I-'ron- 
tenac, is shrewdly believed to have invested more than a friendly interest. '\'\\v 
scheme is no kiss than a mono|)oly of the fur-trade of the continent. 'I'he (Ireat 
River and \'alU'\' of whose resources Jolliet brouj^ht back in the .Summer of 1673 
such marvellous accounts, will be re-e.\plored by La .Salle with the aid of Jolliet's 
manuscript reports ami maps, and of Mar(]uette's narrative, after Marcpiette is dead, and 
when I'rontenac has ri'inovi-d poor Jolliet to the distant ami barren scii^iiciiric of 
Anticosti. Mut the first and prt'ssinL,^ (pieslion is tin; fur-trade of tin; (ireat Lakes. 
Tliis tide of fortune must forthwith i)e dellected from the .Xnijlo-Dutch channel of the 
Huilson to the .St. Lawrence. I'Ort i'rontenac was hastily thrown up on the site of the 
present Kint^rston to comnKUul the Iowit outlet of Lake Ontario; the western j,Mteway 
was brou_i;ht under La Salle's ^uns b)- tiie erection of I'Ort Niaj^ara. The fur-traiie of 
l">ie and the Upper Lakes was to be secured by the patrol of an armed trader. 
But La Salle's schemes of monopoly had already i;.\cited bitter jealousies anil had 
plun<j;ed him into tinancial emba;rassments. Just as he hail i)ut on the stocks the 
vessel tiiat was to Ijccome the pioneer of lake merchantmen, his creditors laid hands 
upon his store of furs at bort I'rontenac, and the French Intendant seized the rest 
at Ouebec. To the Intendant's share fell 2(S4 skunk-skins, whose late occupants are 
in the official inventory u^rimly catalojjued as "cujouts dii diablc." 

After incredible difficulties, and amid the .sleepless .--uspicion and hostility of the 
Indians, a 45-ton craft was at len^jtli completed anil launched on the Niaj^ara River. 
She was named the (riiffiii, after the lion-ea_i,de at her prow, which had been de- 
signed from the a' niorial bearinLjs of Count Frontenac. On the 7th August, 1679, 
La Salle embarked on Lake Erie, and with a 7c Dciidi and salvos of artillery the 
Griffin flung her canvas to the breeze. On the iith she entered the Detroit, the 
pioneer and pilot of that innumerable procession of ships which during two centu- 
ries have passed this Strait. From May to December you may observe all day, and 
through the livelong night, the stately march of the merchantmen on these waters, — 
the soft foot-fall of the sailing craft, and in the fore-front of these alarii, the 














lis 10 






WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 

(716) 872-4503 












int-asured tramp of the steamers, those leijionaries of commerce. On these delightful 
breezy banks you are prone to loiter of a Summer nijj^ht, to watch the moving lights 
Inirn with red and green fires on the water, and to hear the rising wind " sweep a 
imisic out of sheet and shroud." When these waterways are locked by the frost, tiie 
great transfer-steamers still pass and repass between the shores with a calm indiffer- 
ence to the changed landscape. The commander of the iirij'fui, — dashing La .Salle him- 
self, — would behold with awe these leviathans swing into the landing, and, taking 
wliole railway-trains upon their backs, swim liglitl\' across the wide channel, cleaving, 
if P'-ed be. fields of ice, or smiting down the piled-up masonry of the frost. He e.x- 
|jlorei" this Strait under Summer skies. The Griffin sailed between shores which I-'ather 
Hennepin, writing his journal on ileck, described as virgin prairies, or as natural parks 
frequented b\' herds of deer. He saw clouds of wild turkeys rising from th'j 
water's edge, and noble wild swans feeding among the lagoons. The sportsmen 
of the party hunted along the (iriffuts advance, and soon the bulwarks of the l)rig- 
antine were hung with the choicest game;. There were groves of walnut, and chest- 
nut, and wikl plums ; there were stately oak-glades with .ich garniture of grape-vines. 
Quoth Father Hennepin : " Those who in the future will have the good fortune to 
own tiiis fruitful and lovely .Strait will feel ver\' thankful to tiiose who iiave shown 
tiiem the way." Worthy Chaplain of tlie Griffin, wii\, in bespeaking grateful remem- 
brance for thy hero, hast t.'ioii forgotten to record that our Canadian, Jolliet, in his 
birch-bark canoe, mapped out these waterway s ten years ago ? 

The importance of these lake-straits was early recognized l)y I'"renci. statesmen. 
In i6cSS Baron La Hontan found opposite Point Edward, ami nv.^r the site of the 
present Fort Gratiot, a fortified post, — Fort St. Joseph, — which had been erectetl some 
years before to command the upper gateway of the St. Clair. Under the express 
direction of Count Fontchartrain a fort was in 1701 erected on the present site of 
Detroit. Tiit founder, La Motts.' Cadillac, named this im[)(jrtant post after tiie Min- 
ister himself, and it became the nucleus, not only of the future cit)' of Detroit, but 
of the earh' settlements all along the .Straits northward to Lake Huron and southward 
to Lake Erie. 

Under shelter of Fort Fontchartrain, settlements gradually crept along the water's 
edge on both sides of the Detroit. lietween 1734 and 1756 the old records show 
that numerous land-grants were made. The earlier passed under the hands of lieau- 
liarnois ami Horquart ; the later patents bring together sucii incongruous names a3 
the sagacious Governor Ducpiesne, — the founder of Pittsburg, — and the infamous In- 
tendant Higot. These grants were subject to the usual incidents of Canadian 
feudalism, which required of the ifiiiiteitr to erect a grist-mill for the use of his 
unsitaires or feudal tenants, ami to provide a fort or block-house for defence against 
die Indians, To cover both necessities windmill-forts were erected, and the Canadian 






bank above and below Windsor became 
dotted with picturesque round-towers. An 

example, — though not of the very earliest mills, —survives near Sandwich; another 
may be seen on the river-bank above Windsor, or rather Walkerville. The harvests 
and milling operations of pioneer days may appear contemptible to a generation 
accustomed to see -.vheat bj' tens of thousands of bushels received and discharged 
daily at the railway granaries on the river-side; indeed a large elevator of our time 
would have housed the entire wheat-harvest of Ontario in the earlier years of the 
century. But the rudest of mills was an inexpressible boon to a settler who had 
been living on grain coarsely bruised in the mortar that, after Indian example, 
with a red-hot stone, he hollowed out of some hard-wood stump. In the court- 
yards of these old windmills may often, of an Autumn day, have been seen anima- 
ted groups, — at first easy-humoured and apt to make the best of everything after the 
happy disposition of the P'rench kahitant, but latterly, — with the arrival of the U. E. 
Loyalists, — apt to see that the miller took no more than his rightful toll, and that he 
gave them back their own wheat-sacks. These primitive rights of the subject found 
voice in the open-air Parliament which Simcoe held at Niagara in 1792: it was then 
and there solemnly enacted that wheat-sacks must be branded, and that the miller 
must not take more than a twelfth for his toll. 

Among the earliest settlers on the Detroit were discharged soldiers of the French 



armies which had served ajrainst iMiyhuKl in the j^reat strupj^le lately closed by the 
tnaty of Aix-la-Chapelle ; and no doul)l some of these very veterans and th(' officers 
who now became their scigiiciirs hatl !)een with Marsiial Saxe at I'ontenoy. The 
threat highwa)- of our Old Ri'qinic was the river, whether open or fro;,en ; so the land 
was cut up into lonj; narrow ribbons running out to tiie river-bank. A grf)up of these 
shore-settlements was in tlie l'"rench-Canadian patois known as a cote. Thus between 
Amhcrstburg and Sandwich there; was J'ctitc Cotr, a name which still survives though 
its original significance is lost. Tlu; ecclesiastical grouping of these settlements into 
parishes was simultaneous. The Parish (jf IJAssotiiptiou extended along the bank above 
and below tlie present Windsor, a dozen miles either way. At La Poiiitc etc Moutri'al, 
a village grew up, taking its name from the parish, and forming the nucleus of the 
])resent Sandwich. The earlier name is still represented in ^Assumption College, an im- 
|)ortant Catholic Seminar)' at .Santlwich. The College stands upon a plot of 120 acres 
which was given by the Ottawa and Huron Indians to l^ishop Hubert, of Quebec, 
about 1 781. Near LWssomption were settled the Wyandots, a remnant of the once 
numerous Hurons, anil descended from the few that \\v. saw escaping the Irocjuois 
massacres of 1648-49. These disinherited children 01 the soil received the spiritual care 





of Carthusian Friars in 1728, and their "Huron Church" became one of the earliest 
landmarks for pilots on tlu.'se waters. Together with fragments of varioui; other tribes, 
the Wyandots afterwards removed to the Indian Reserve farther down the bank, but 



in the form Wyandotte, their i.ame still survives across the river in the busy town 
where yonder blast-furnaces and rolling-mills keep the ri\er side in |)erpetu;d niourning. 

Between Wyandotte and Sandwich we pas I^'iirhting Island. From the name 
might be exjiected a place bristling with all the circumstance of war ; but tlespite its 
name the island lies most peacefully basking and dozing in the sunshine. No ; not 
even the Indian entrenchments that were marked here in the maps of a century ago. 
But the name incloses an remembrance of the years when Vigilance looked 
out of the dark windmills oftener than did Industry. First there were the Indian 
Wars and ambuscades; then came the War of 1812: and last of all there was our 
Rebellion. The Detroit frontier witnessed in those unquiet times many bits of gal- 
lant work anil endless romantic incidents ; but in order to keep within sight of our 
artist, we must not wander far afield. 

Windsor has, within less than two centuries, passed through the phases of 
virgin prairie, riverside farm, trading-post of the Nor'-West Company, amliitious 
village, prosperous town; it is now fast ripening into the dignity of a city and 
board of aldermen. The site has witnessed many stirring incidents. Here in Novem- 
ber, 1 760, encamped the first British troops that penetrated to these western rivers. 
The Capitulation of Montreal, two months before, had transferred to F2ngland this 
vast Canadian domain. Under Amherst's orders Major Rogers and his Rangers hail 
now come to take possession of Fort Pontchartrain. Rogers had sent in advance to 
the commandant a letter informing him of the Capitidation, i)ut tiiis was incredu- 
lously receiveil. and an attempt was even made to rally the Inilians to tiie rescue. 
Then came another despatch from Rogers, who had by this time reached the mouth 
of the Detroit, — a copy of the Capitulation, anil an order from [h<; Marquis de 
Vandreuil directing the surrender of the Fort. At the sight of his Governor-'^eneral's 
autograph, poor Captain Belctre knew that all was lost I Where Windsor now stands 
was an open meadow, then forming part of M. Baby's farm. There encan'iped und. - 
canvas, and eagerly watching the turn of affairs across the river lay the swarthy Ran- 
gers and their famous commander. Presently a small iletachment formed among the 
tents, and in charge of two officers crossed over to the I'ort. Then the tragic 
summon.s. The F"rench troops are now seen defiling on the plain ; the flciir dc lis 
drops from the flagstaff: the red cross of St. (jeorge springs aloft and shakes out its 
folds to the breeze. Half a continent has changed masters ! 

The neighbo'-ring Indians beheld with amazement the surrender of the garrison and 
the disarming of the h'rench regulars and militia. It was incomprehensible how so 
many yielded to the handful that took over Vandreuil's dispatch ; still less, if possible, 
could they understand why the vanquished should have their lives spared, nay, why 
most of them should be sent away in peace to their farms. These Indians of 
the Detroit passed over to the winning side with suspicious alacrity. Among those 

FROM TO RON 7 0, li'/iSriWl RD. 


who are cliciTin^ the loudest (or tlie l^nyhsli iV^v^ <)l)serv( that dusky muscular chief of 
tin- Ottawas, who wears an unusual wealth of lonjr l)lack hair. Thri'e years hence 
he will desperately endeavour to pull that lla^ down. His name is I'ontiac. With him 

the question is not which of these Euro- 
pean nations he loves the more, hut which 
he hates the less. Lont;- afte." his dc-ath. 
his spirit will stalk tli(i forc-st in Tecumseh. 
But despite Pontiac's tierce beleaguerment 

X?^.<5 -^ »ifc~ 


of the Fort, the tliij^ of Knirland wfll float there Summer and Winter until a con- 
stellation not at all seen of the wise men when Georj^e III. was born will rise in 
these western skies, and perplex all the court astroloj^ers. 

The old farm-house of the Habys seems to have been the first brick building that 
the Western District. — or for that matter the Province, — of Upper Canada possessed. 
It still survives. — or was lately to be seen, — within the limits of Windsor. Under 

•■.i!h !, 





its roof-tree General Hull establishorl his head-quarters when he was rehearsing his 
Invasion-farce. The farce was followed iiy a more serious after-piece, — not on tht; 
play-bill, — The surrcudcr of Detroit and licticral Hull, — which nearly ended in an 
actual tragedy, for the poor old general was promptly court-martialled by his fellow- 
officers, and escaped being shot only through the mere "H-rcy of President Madison. 
The quiet of the river-side farm was again broken in the following year, — this time by 
a soldier of different quality. Here in the opening days of October, i8i;,, on the old 
camping-ground of Rogers' Rangers, were picketed General Harrison and his famous 
mounted rifles. At the distance of seventy years we can afford to examine the Ken- 
tuckians with more composure than did our grandfathers. Lithe, athletic fellows, and 
fearless, every oni; ; occasionally savage, i)ut often chivalrous ; such as might have sat to 
Fenimore Cooper for his portrait of Lcallicr-stockitis;. Head turbaned with a handker- 
chief of bright colors, — blue, red, or yellow ; himting-frock and trowsers of leather, — the 
trowsers gaily fringed with tassels. Not cavalry, as we understand cavalry, and therefore 
no sabre; rather, as Harrison himself described them, "mounted infantry." They were 
armed with well-tried rifles: and for close and desperate service against the Indians 
they carried in their belts the horrid knife and tomahawk. Just now their immediate 
business in Canada was to pursue Proctor, who had latclj' made a disastrous in- 
va.sion of Michigan, and now, abandoning the Canadian frontier to the enemy, had 
retreated to the Thames. In a council of war at Amherstburg, the Indian chief 
Tecumseh had In vain tried i)y the most scornful reproaches to goad this faineant 
into a sliow of action. But a disastrous naval engagement had only eight days 
before occurred within distinct hearing, and almost within sight of Fort Maiden. F^om 
the shores that overhang the lake at the mouth of the Detroit, the English and 
the American flotillas were seen to be among the Bass Islands, — each 
commander plainly trying to gel the weather-gage or some other fighting advantage 
of the other. An unnatural strife between nations of the same flesh and blood ; nay, 
between mother and son, — an arrogant mother and an inconsiderate son, — altogether 
such a drama as would have satisfied the old Greek tragedians. It was the tenth 
of September. Just as the sun was getting overhead, Barclay's squadron was seen 
to engage the American fleet, " by giving a few long guns," to which Perry re- 
sponded with promptitude and extreme vigour. A vast rolling curtain of smoke then 
fell on the stage, but the incessant roar of artillery behind, sufficiently told the specta- 
tors that the Furies were hurrying on this Orestean drama to its tragic close. Late 
in the afternoon the curtain slowly lifted, and a funeral procession was disclosed 
passing across the stage, — the procession of the dead and of those who still lay 
writhing on the decks in the agonies of death. The two fleets offered a sorry 
spectacle, — notably the captive English ships which brought up the wake. 

This naval reverse would under Brock's genius and wonderful resource have per- 



haps become only tlic dark l)ackjjrounil to some liiilliant feat of arms; but Hrock 
had fallen on Qiieenston Heijjjhts, and a militars artist of another (]iiality had now 
succeeded. Proctor called a council of war aiic' |)r()|)osc(l to destroy I'orts Maiden 
and Detroit, burn up all public property, ami then retreat on Niatjara, thus leaving 
to the discretion of the invader over two hundred miles of country with its towns 
and farmsteads and Indian villages. Among the officers present at the council was 
the famous chieftain and orator Tecumseh. or Tecumtha, as his name was pro- 
nounced, — who ranked as brigadier-general of the Indian auxiliaries. His influence 
among the native races was boundless. Hy the Indians throughout the valleys of 
the Missouri and Mississippi anil still away northward to the great Lake-Land, 
Tecumseh was regarded as the mighty deliverer who would restore the children of 
the soil to their birthright and iieritage. His mission was betokened by signs in 
heaven and awful tremblings of the earth. The great comet that appeared in the 
autumn of 181 1 was but Tecumseh's terrible arm stretched across the sky, kindling 
at nightfall on every h'll top signal-fires for the great Indian War. In the Chief- 
'.ain's absence General Harrison marched to the Waiiash and defeated the warriors 
who had already obeyed this celestial summons. I hey were commanded by Te- 
cumseh's twin brother the Prophet, and they attacked the " Big-Knives " — as they 
called the Americans — with such terrific onset, that this victory of Tippecanoe cost 
Harrison several of his best officers. A month afterwards, the valleys of the Mi.ssouri 
and Mississippi were violently shaken by an earth(juake. To t!ie excited and im- 
aginative Indians the earthquake was but the stamping of Tecumseh's foot to announce, 
as he had promised, his arrival at the Detroit River. The shocks continued all the 
winter long, and these were other signals, not understootl of wiiite men, by which 
Tecumseh was preparing his people for stirring events. The outbreak of the .Anglo- 
American war in June, sufficiently explained to not a few of the border pioneers, as 
well as to the Indians, this uneasiness of earth and sky: it was now abundantly 
plain what the comet and earthcpiakes portended ! During the first year's campaign, 
Tecumseh's exploits stirred the lodge-fires along the Mississippi and the bivouacs on 
both sides of the Detroit. But with Brock's death everything went wrong in the 
west. F"roni being fearlessly aggressive the British tactics had become timidly defensive. 
The champion of the red-men now actually heard in a council of war, and from the 
lips of an English general, a proposal to abandon the whole Indian population to 
the mercy of riflemen who might not yet have forgotten, — for it was but nine months 
ago, — the massacre of their comrades at the Raisin. 

Tecumseh arose. As he drew himself up to his full height, his powerful but 
finely-moulded form was seen to advantage in a close-fitting dress of deer-skin. A 
magnificent plume of white ostrich feathers waved on his brow, and contrasted 
strongly with his dusky features. His piercing hazel eyes Hashed with a wild and 



t(!rril)l(; hrllllaiu-y, forinin;^ a spectacle which tlie officers of the Council never forjfot. 
With withering' scorn he relateil how tin; Indians had served, and liad heen served; 
and tluMidercil out tiie fiercest tlenunciations of Proctor's cowardice and treachery, 
I'ciuinsch felt that h>' was the last of tin; ^xvx\\. Indian Chiefs, and tin last hope 
of his people; he hail resolved either to justify that hope, or to siiow the worlil 
how the last of the ^(reat Indian Chiefs could die. The |)eroralion of tin- rinion- 
strance addressed to I'roctor contains liu; last recorded wonls of Teiuinst'h : " \'ou 
have j^ot the arms and ammunition wiiich our ^reat father sent for his red-children. 
If \()U iia\<: any idea of jj^ointj away, j^ive them to us, and \()u ina\' i^o with a 
welcome! ()iir lives are in the hainls of the (ireat .Spirit, We are lietermined to 
defencl our lands, and, if it is his will, we wish to lea\e our hones ujion them." 

The council of war was for a tinti; complc'tely horiu' away 1)\' the wikl rush of 
this native: eloquence. The British ofTux'rs were ijowerfully affected. The excitement 
of the Intlian Chii'fs was uncontrollable. .As soon as he coulil j^et a hearing-, 
I'roctor faltered out a promist: that he wouKl make a stand, if not at Chatham, 
certainly at Mora\ianli)wn, an Indian \ illai^e up the Thames, where liveil many of 
Tecumseh's Delaware Indians. On this clear understanding^ the chieftain i^ave way. 

The line of retreat from the Detroit tai^es us alon<r the shore of Lake .St. 
Clair to Baptisti: Creek near the mouth of the Thames ; there crossins^ the main 
river we follow the retreatin<; army alon^,^ ilie north bank and through j.jreat forests 
as yt:t scarcel)' traversed '))■ a formal road; and so reach Chatham and Moravian- 

AIon;j^ the Canadian bonier of Lake St. Clair and for more than a d(jzen miles 
l)ack from its |)ri;sent marL;in is a de(;p stratum of rich clay silt, marking' the area 
of an older b.isi.i. Throuj^h this alluvial belt the Thames anil .Syderdiam creej) 
with a drowsy motion, but at the northern eml of the lake the current of the .St. 
Clair River has ploujrhed out for itself numerous channels and formed a delta which 
is familiar to every Canadian sportsman as the St. C/a/'r Flats. 'This old lake mud 
has a marrowy fatness that stroni^dy commends it in our day to the farmers of 
Ksse.v, Kent, and Lambton ; but it has withal a linj^jerinii; tenacity that would not 
recommend it to fuL^itives. .Seventy years i\<^() the country on the lower Thames 
was still an unbroken prairie rarely invailed e.xcept b\' the overflowing river. Near 
Chatham the river-banks lifted, and you entered the ancient cathedral of the forest 
with its solemn twiliirht, its resinous incense, and its rich murmiirinir music. Lordl)' 
trees that had possession of the soil lons^' centuries before Champlain, or Cartier, or 
Cabot touched our shores, towered aloft in stupendous columns, and branched out 
a hundred feet overhead with domes or archways, with such a wealth of foliajre 
that tile sun was subdued to a "dim relijrious li),dit " and the uniierj^rovvth was 
often no more than a lilagree of mosses and lichens. Amid the s^loom of those 



A low ON LAKE SI'. Cl.AIK, 

forest archways a who'*; army could find retreat, and inarch nnobserveil ilay after 
tla\'. But tlien those aisles were so spacious that fifteen hunclreil caxalry might 
pursue at a galop, and scarcely slack rein all day long, — a most serious contingency 
in the I*"all days of 1S13. At sunrise, and still more at sunset, a suilden gior)' lit 
up the forest. And if, like man\' anxious eyes, yours had betMi directed to the 
evening sky on the fourth of (Xtoher, )ou would have seen a spectacle of inde- 
scribable magnificence. The forest minster was lighted up even to its crypts. The 
great nuillioned windows to the west glowed with a fiery spleiulour which warmed 
to flame the scarlet maple-leaves that strewed the floor. Altogether such a 
wild sunset as might befit the going out of a fiery life. In our Indian drama 
the trilogy consists of Pontiac, Brant, Tccumsch, — each boklly confronting Fate, and 
welding into a leagu'^ the native races of half the continent. For Tecumseh the 
last sun was now setting. 

Chatham witnessed the first conflict. The prosperous county-town of our day 
is the growth of the last fifty years, but we have already seen that Governor 



Tin; ST. ( lAlK ( ANAI.. 

Siimoc had tlic livcr-soimdini^rs taken in 1793, 
and a l()\vn-])l()t surveyed in 1795. Iredell's 
autoj^rapli plan is preserved in tiie Cruwn 
Lands Department of Ontario ; and it is evi- 
dent that (>// /><i/>rr the town immediately south of tiie Thames has subsisted un- 
chanjrcd for nearl\' ninety years. A full stream of business now Hows throu^di Kinj; 
Street, whose windings form a picturescpie reminiscence of the old river-road, and 
of the ancient Indian trail through the forest. The fine avenue i>y which we ascend 
from tile river-side to the northern (juarter of the town i)etrays in its straight lines 

another century, and a generation 
of rectangular taste. In Simcoe's 
day the Thames was here fifteen 
to twenty feet deep, and it was 
joined at an acute angle by a 
"creek" which, though no more 
than thirty or forty fc^et wide, 
was ten or twi-he feet in depth. 
The tract inclosed between the 
"I'orks" has in our time been re- 
planted witii trees, and in proper 
remembrance of a brave ally and 
a remarkal)le man, it has been 
named Tecumseh Park. With mil- 
itary instinct Simcoe set aside as 
an ordnance reserve the penin- 
CLUB HOUSK, ST. CLAIR FLATS. sula thus moatcd by nature on 



two sides. In 1794, lif built on the noitli face a lilock-hoiise, ami iiiulcr tlic 
siiadow of its ^mis lu; set one Maker, wlio had worked in lh(- Kinj^'s ship-yard at 
Brooklyn,— to create a lake llotilla. I'ive yrnn-hoats were put immediately on the 
stocks, l)ul owinj^ to tiie (iovernor's withdrawal from Can.da his schemes fell into 
disorder. Three of Simcoe's jrun-hoats were never even launched, hut rotted away 
unustnl on the stocks. Had that brave old sea-doj> Harclay had even one such boat 
when the lla,L^;-ship Lawrence struck her colours to his lire, his yallant opponent I'erry 
would scarcely be just now covering Harrison's advance by runnini,^ United States 
jrun-boats up to Chatham. .After twenty years, the town hail j^ot no farther than 
a paper plan. As Harrison's horse came thundering along through the aisles of 

1 j j 1, - ^^ 



1 ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^R 




^^jdm^^ —^ -^ < 



'ii; Tin; si', ci.aik ii.ain 


sugar-maple that flanked the south bank of the Thames, these Kenluckians would 
ha\e been much surprised to learn that they Vvfere galloping over what were, 
officially speaking, houses and churches. Hut it is to be doubted whether this 
startling thouglit would have disconcerted them half as much as diil the rifle-shots 
which suddenly rang out from among the trees on the north bank and on Simcoe's 
r.;serve, emptying some of their saddles. Tecumseh had vainly recommended this 
vantage-ground to Proctor : our remarkable strategist preferred that all his military 
stores should be captured at Chatham rather than venture a brush with Harrison's 
cavalry, of which he had already got some experience in Michigan. No more of 
Harrison's horse-play for him ; Proctor had lost all taste for such diversion ; he 
was already twenty-six miles up the country, and had left no instructions. The 
gallant Indian Chief, — would, for the sake of the Canadians, he had been Commander- 
in-Chief! — then undertook, with such poor means as he had at hand, to stop the 



j'/crrR/usoi -/■: caa'.ida. 

tide of invasion. Lil<c Horatiiis in the l)ravc days of old, he i)eat haci< the enemy 
until tile i)riiltje across tlu; moat could lie licwn away. Hut Horatius never fouj^ht 
ijrainst si.\-|)ounilc'r cannon ; siicii a balixta would have stajj^s^ered tlie nohlest Roman 
of them all. I'he hridjL;^' was rchtiilt, and the tide of invasion roUetl on. 

In asccndint; the Thames two s^enc;rations aj^o, your boat woukl not have been 
much emharrasseil by hrid^cs. Until iSiO there was no means of crossintj the 
main chann( 1 excn at Chatham. The tine iron structurt; that now s|)ans the ri\'er 
some t' n nu'lcs farther up, would have seemi:d to Dolson, to Clarki- the miller, anil 
to the other |)ioni'ers on the har.k a far i^ri iter marvel than the llan,<(injr (iardens 
of Hal)\lon. .Soon after passing' the site of the future Kent Mrids^^e we should have 
touched the western skirts ol the l.on^' Woods, —a park like forest stretchinLj un- 
broken for fort) miles uj) the I'hames, .and coverino- acres. Hritlle-paths 
through it there were many, but carriage or wai^on roads there were nont;. The 
l)resent village of TliainesN ille marks the westi'rn edi^c of this romantic wilderness, 
.uul the \ill::'4c ol I )elawai-e lav on its eastern skirts. In the \ery heart of it was 
a solitary but cheerful inn kept by a ipiaint old soul, who |)ro\ide(l in his hotel 
reuister a column lor the adventures ol his ijiiests in the Loult \\ ootls. llis name, 

either intenlionalU or acciilentallv, 


embalmetl in Warchvillc. 


us vast so 


was r.u'elN 

spear on the 

oken except b\- Indians. 


ie\ came to tish at nisihtfall with torch and 




tlnir liri'-rafts on autumn niijhts, the\- would 

li^ht u|) in wild reliel the rixcr-banks au'l the dark archwax s of the forest, while 



startled froiu th 

(Mr sleep 


I f; 


the lioht. 

wouUl ilraw 

within rauLJC of the 1 ml 

ian rilU 


oravian luissioiiaries settled ui this wiUlerness m 


2, anil tl'ic 1 

lUiian r..)t seliloi 

n Lirafti'd 

ne lessons o 

f the Morav 

lans lus own 



.1 fancies. 


nwison snen 

I the Chi-istmas 






1 had an interestins. 


Xidit of iS 


11) a 

t the hostelry 



out aiul strolled in tlic woods conti<iuous to the house, 

en it was midnight I walked 
A glorious moon had now 
ascended to tlu: summit of the arch of heaven and poured a perpendicular flood of 

The starry hosts sparkled brii^ditly when they 

liL;ht upon 


e silent Aorkl 

emery;eil abovi' tlie horizon, but j^rradualK' fadi'd Into twinkling- points as they rose 
in the skw The motionless trees stretched their maiestic bousjhs towards a cloudless 

alone brol 



rustlinsjf o 

,1 withered leaf, or the distant hi 

.f tl 

le wo 


upon m\' ear. I wa.-> suiklenly roused from a delicious reverie by 


rvmir a i 


object moxin;^' s 


ind cautious 


anion"- the trees. 

At first I 


ncieil It was a bear, but a nearer insjiection discoxerei 


Indian on all fours. 

'or a momen 

t I f. 

imwillintr to ilirow 




his wav. lest he should be 

mei.itatinjj; some sinister desiu-n as^'ainst me : howexer, on his wa\inu; his haiiil and 
puttinjf his finder on his lips. I approached him, and notwithstanding his injunction 
to silence, inquired what he did there. ' Me watch to see the deer kneel,' replied 





he: 'This is Christmas-Night, and all the deer fall on their knees to the Great 
Spirit, and look up.' The solemnity of the scene, and the grandeur of the idea, 
alike contributed to fill me with awe. It was affecting to find traces of the Chris- 
tian faith existing in such a place, even in the form of such a tradition." 

A high plain, wooded with white oak, lay near the north bank of the river 
between the present Thamesville and Bothwell. Arriving here in May, 1 792, four 
Moravians established an outpost in the Canadian wilds, as, seventy years before, the 
" Watch of the Lord " had been established among Count Zinzendorf's oaks on the 
Hutberg. Simcoe was hospitably entertained at the Mission while he was exploring 
the Thames in 1 793. He became much interested in the secular aspect of the en- 
terprise and the effort to lead the aborigines to agricultural pursuits. A few months 
later, he reserved for these Moravian Indians a plot of more than fifty thousand 
acres, occupying both sides of the Thames and forming the old township of Orford 
in the now extinct county of Suffolk. It was a picturesque incident for the European 
to find growing up under the shelter of a Canadian forest the antifjue usages of 
the ninth century and of the Byzantine Christian Church : — the social separation into 
"choirs" according to age and sex; the "bands," "classes," and agapce ; the celebration 
at the grave-yard of an Easter-morn, and the roll-call of the recent dead ; the Vigil 
of the New Year; the announcement, not with tolling bell, but with trumpets and 
pagans, when one of the brethren had passed from earth, —for had he not won a 
victory, — a triumph over the last enemy. Death? By 1813 the Mission had gathered 
around it a hundred houses. The sandy loam on both sides of the river had be- 
come fields of waiving maize; many of the Indian dwellings nestled in beautiful gardens 
and orchards. Thirty-three years after fire and sword had given back this village to 
the wilderness. Colonel Bonnycastle found still distinctly traceable the orchards of the 
Moravian pioneers. The northern half of Orford Township has passed from the hands 
of the Moravians and received the name of Zone ; the Moraviantown of our day 
occupies the south side of the river. 

General Harrison forded the Thames twelve miles below the Mission, mounting 
a foot-soldier behind every cavalier as in the first days of Templar Knighthood. The 
military details of the battle near Moraviantown need not here be pursued. The 
central incident is the death of the great Indian Chief, which must always retain an 
unfading interest. It were easy for Tecumseh, with his perfect knowledge of the black- 
ash jungle where he stood, to have made good his escape ; but to this lordly son 
of the forest, — this savage, if you will, — there were things far dearer than life. His 
self-respect forbade him to imitate the example of his commander-in-chief who was 
now spurring through the October leaves toward Burlington Heights. After Proctor 
had fled the field, Tecumseh, disdaining the protection of the marsh, advanced towards 
the American cavalry and eagerly sought out the commander that had broken the 



red man's strength at Tippecanoe. With the fierce onset of the native panther, — 
from which Tecumseh got his name, — he sprang at a mounted officer whom he sup- 
posed General Harrison. The officer drew a pistol and the Indian Chief fell dead. 
The American officers who opposed Tecumseh in tiie council and In the field, have 
ricorded how profoundly he impressed them by his majesty of demeanour and by his 
haughty eloquence; and they have related how, even in death, he looked a King, — 
"ay, every inch a King." By the English Thames, as well as by the Canadian, there 
is a story of a native chief who defended his people's hunting-grounds against an 
alien invader. Cassivellaunus has, through the pen of Ctesar, secured a permanent 
place in history. .Some of the most learned scholars of Europe have devoted them- 
selves to ascertaining where this naked savage drove stakes into the bed of the Thames. 
Yet how insignificant the ancient Briton's theatre of action, or his federation of clans, 
when compared with the field traversed by Tecumseh, or with the interests, Indian and 
Imperial, that were in his keeping. But antiquity, — that glamour of classical antiquity ! 
The battle-field at Moraviantown remained uncleared till 1846, when it yielded to 
the plough numerous memorials of the conllict. Immediately north of the marsh 
were some black-walnut trees bearing carved emblems, — an eagle, turtle, horse, and 
other hieroglyphics. This heraldry would have puzzled Garter King-at-Arms, who 
was perfectly at ease among boars' heads, bears and ragged staffs, bloody hands, and 
the other refinements of mediaeval heraldry. But the eagle, and the turtle, and the 
horse were full of meaning for two aged Shawnees who had fought by Tecumseh's side 
and had afterwards carved on the walnuts these emblems to mark with deepest 
veneration the spot where the last hope of so many Indian nations expired. The old 
settlers relate that often at twilight these Shawnee warriors might have beeu seen 
stealing to the place. Remaining tliere for hours in the darkness, and with a silence 
unbroken except by the sighing of the night-wind through the aged walnut-trees, they 
would meditate on the life and death of the last great representative of the Indian 
race. To the inexpressible grief of these poor Indians, and with a most barbarous 
disregard of the sanctity of the rV^ce, the walnut-trees were hewn down, and the scene of 
Tecumseh's death has been thought irrecoverably lost. But while searching tiie records of 
the Crown Lands' Department of Ontario, we have discovered that in the survey of Zone 
made in 1845 ^^Y ^- Springer, the precise spot was ascertained and recorded in the 
Surveyor's plan and field-notes, with bearings and distances. By a strange oversight, 
discreditable to our national gratitude, the lot, — No. 4, in the old " Gore of Zone," 
—was not reserved as public property, nor any memorial erected. But even at this 
late hour we should bethink ourselves of what is due to the memory of Tecumseh. 
A romantic history still surrounds the ])lace of his burial. It would seem that the 
liody was fi-.rtively buried by a few of his warriors, and the secret confided to only 
the leading Indian chiefs. In 1876 much interest was aroused by the alleged disclo- 


Pli ' 7 Y 7v' FSO ( li CA\ \-\ D. I . 



sure of thi' sixTct, and a search undertaken. 0\vin<; to the excitement of the 
Indians the search was teniporai'lly disrontiniied ; and wlien it was resunieil, ixmes and 
weapons were foumi whicii certainly were not Tecuniseh's, i)ut are l)\- many beheved 
to have Iseen specially substituted for the chieftain's. So liie m\ster\ remains as he- 
fore, and on Tecumseh's ctuiotapii may be inscribed the; wonls spoken of the 
ancient law^i^■<;r, " No man knoweth of his sepulchre unto tliis da\'." 

.Sy. C/nir, Lake and River, should, accordinsj; to l,a .Salle's intention, i)e spelled 
Saiii/c CAr/rr. With his pioneer merchantman, the (ir///i//, !-a Salle entered tlie Lake 
on the twelfth of Aui^ust, 1679. it was the day, as l''ather Hennepin woulil tloulit- 
less remind him, dedicated to Sancta Clara,— in I'rench, .Sainie Claire, to her who 
was o!"ice the lo\-el\' Clara d'.Xssisi, and who afterwards became Abbi'ss of San 
Damiano and the foundress of the ( )rder of the Poor Clares. .She ilied in i "i.S.v and 
the festival is kept on tl anniversary of her biuNal. Hut when Canada passetl over 
to iuiLjiand, a general di.'bility overtook the old i'rench names in tlu? West, and they 
cIuiil;' for suijjxirt to the nearest I'^n^lish word, whatt'xcr it minhl sie;nif\-. Now it 
happened that .S'/. Clair became, in the midtlle of the last centiii\\, a familiar name in 
America through .Sir John St. Clair, Hradilock's ili'puty ([uartermaster-ircneral ; and 
then, towards the end ol the century, Ceneral Arthur .St. Clair held tlie command 
against the Indians in tlii: West. 'l"!ie name of tlu' lake? anil river wouKl naturally be 
associatetl with these military ofticefs b)- tlu' first two _t;;enerations of Ivnnlish \)W- 
neers in Canatla. This confusion becam(; utter disorder when the form Sinclair 
River recei\etl official sanction from .Survevor-General .Sni) th's Uazcttccr of Upper 
Canada, in 1 799. 

At the very <rateway of the Lake there- is an islt.'t which possesses historical in- 
terest. In our day it bears the name of Pc-ach Island ■ this arose from a miscon- 
ception of the I'rench lie a la Peelie, — " I'ishini; Island." Lake Huron has jujenerally 
been regarded as the honu'stead of the white tish ; liut in the Indian epoch and in 
pioneer times the rixcr islands were the f.ivourite rcisorts of fishermen, red or pale- 
faced. In countless myriads white fish tlocked towards the throat of Lake .St. 
Clair to browse on the minute water wc'cds and perhaps to pre\- on the small 
molluscs that luxuriate in its miuld\- shoals. The hsh would be borne into the 
eddies tiiat swirl around the river islantls, and thus fall an easy prey to the 
Indian scoop-net. Towards the close of the Lrench regime. He a la Peche 
acknowledged as its lord a fisherman of most uncommon craft. His name was 
Pon'.iac, — the same whom we heard applaud lustily the raising of the red-cross Hag 
at Detroit. The historian Parkman gives us a vi\ id picture of this famous chief- 
tain's summer rendezvous : — " Standing on thi- water bastion of Detroit, a pleasant 

landscape spread before the eye. The river, about half a mill 


almost washed 

the foot of the stockade 


d cither bank was lined with the white Canadian cot- 




tages. Tlie joyous sparkling of 
the l)right blue water ; the green 
luxuriance of the woods ; the 
white dwellings looking out 
from the foliage ; and in the distance 
the Indian wigwams curling their smoke 
against the sky, — all were mingled in 
one broad scene of wild and rural 
beauty. Pontiac, the Satan of this 
forest paradise, was accustomed to 
spenc' the early part of the summer 
upon a small island at the opening of 
the Lake St. Clair, hidden from \ie\v by 
the high wootls that covered tiie inter- 
vening Isle au Cochon. ' Tiie king and 
lord of all this country,' as Rogers 
calls him, lived in no royal state. His 
cabin was a small oven-shaped structure 
of bark and rushes. Here he dwelt 

with his squaws and children; and "■ — '~' ' ~ ' 

here, doubtless, he might have often 

been seen lounging, half naked, on a rush mat or a bear-skin, like any ordi- 
nary warrior. We may fancy the current of his thoughts, the turmoil of his uncurbed 
passions, as he revolved the treacheries which, to his savage mind, seemeil fair and 
honourable. At one moment, his fierce heart would burn with the anticipation of 
vengeance on the detested English ; at another, he would meditate how he best 

might turn the approaching tumults to the furtherance of his own ambitious schemes. 



PIC TURliSQ L 'E 6 V / NA DA. 

Yet we may Ix-licvc that Pontiac was not a straiijror to the hiifh emotions of the 
patriot liLTo, tiu? cliampion, not nuTciy of iiis nation's rij;iUs, hut of tiie \cry cxisti'iicc 
of his racf. He ihil not dream how clespt^rate a yame he was aiioiit to pla\-. lie 
hourly flattered himself with the futik; hope of aid from I'rance, and th()uj;ht in his 
iijnorance that the British Colonies must y;ivt; way before the rush of his savat:[e war- 
riors; when, in truth, all the comhineil tribes of the forest mi;,dit havi' chafed in vain 
rajifc against the rock-like slreni^th of the .\ni;lo-Sa.\on. Lookint^ across an interveninir 
arm of the river, i'onliac could see on its eastern i)ank the numerous loilires kA his 
Ottawa tribesmen, half hidden .imoni^ the rai^ircd nrrowth of lre( s and bushes." 

It was within the narrow compass of this meilitative IK- a l,i Peche that I'on- 
tiac planned his surprise of the extended chain of fronti(;r iLjarrisons in 1763, The 
first attacked was the most rimiote — the fort that ^narik'd the i^^ateway from Lake 
Huron into Lake Michigan. On the fourth of juiu' the Ojii)ways with effusive 
loyalty asseni">ied arouml I'ort Michillimackinac to celebrate the birthday of their 
Oreat I'ather, Kinij; Cieori,a;. Mark the i^rim irony of that touch! The main fea- 
ture of tlu' occasion was to be a i^rrand L^^ame of la-crosse, — or Inn^s^aihiway as the 
Ojibways nanu'il it, -|)layi^il with the Sacs for a hij^h wai^^tir. Once or twice, 
through some imusual awkwardness in the phucrs, the ball was swuno- over the 
pickets of the fort, anil the players in their eagerness all rushed pc;ll-nu-ll to find 
the ball, and then out ai,rain to resume- the <;ame. Nhijor Ltherin<,non, the com- 
mandant, had bet on tlu; Ojibways, ami was ,is intent as an\' on th(; sport. Onct: 
more the ball rosi; hi,L;h in tin- air and fell within the fort. This time the ea^;er 
playi^rs in their rush towards the i^ate suddenly dropped their la-crosse sticks and 
snatched tomahawks from s([uaws who stooil reaily with the weapons bem-ath their 
blankets. The massacre of the surpris(.'d garrison was the work of an instant, for 
four hundred armed Indians were now within the inclosurel An ailventurous fur- 
trader, Alexander Henry, witnessed the tra^;ed\' from a window overlookin>i^ tiie fort, 
and after a series of thrillinsj^ danj^ers, escapetl. and lived to become the historian 
of these events. Throusjjh the kindness of his t^rand-dau^diter, who resides in 
Toronto, we have consulted for the of our narrative Henry's own copy of 
his famous Tnnr/s (I//1/ .Idvciifitrcs. 

Within fifteen days from the strikinL,^ of the first blow in the north ten forts 
had fallen before Pontiac's stratei;[y. One im|)ortant t^a'-rison, however, still held 
out, — that at Detroit. The love of a oretty Indian girl for Major Gladwyn had 
betrayed the plans of the great conspirator; and though Pontiac might draw an 
inexperienced officer into :•. fatal ambuscade, the wary commamlant would withstand 
even a twelve months' beleaguerment, and throw into hopeless chaos Pontiac's 

In the spring of 1852, the genius of Mrs. Stowe made our western frontier 




famous to all the 

workl as the asylum of refugee slaves. 

No passai^es in L'lulc Join's C'a/i/ii 

arc more painfully cxcitiiii^ than 

those describinL,^ the lli^ht of \'A\/.w and ht-r child ; 

every reader feels a sense of jjrofouml relief 

when they j^ain Canatlian soil. An act 

of the Imperial Tarliament, passed in 

1S33, abolished slavery in 






the Colonies, but Simcoe's Farmers' 
Parliament at Niagara anticipated 
by forly years Buxton and the 

Emancipation Act of England, and Garrison's Anti-Slavery Society in the United 
States. In Upper Canada slavery was abolished as early as 1793, by An Act 
to Prevent the Further lutrodnction of Slaves, and to Limit the Term of Con- 
tracts for Servitude zoithin this /'rovince. This most remarkable measure was framed 
by the Solicitor-General, Robert Gray, who represented the Counties of Stormont 
and Russell. One Sunday evening in 1804, the Solicitor-General embarked at Toronto 
on the schooner Speedy, to attend the Newcastle circuit ; but an October gale sud- 
denly rising, the schooner missed her harbour and disappeared. Every port on 
the Lake was in vain searched for tidings, and at length all hope was abandoned. 



Gray's will was opened, and it was found that the cause of the slave hail lain ver)' 
near his heart. He yave his black servants, Simon and John, their freedom, anil 
hestowed on each a sum of money and two hundred acres of land. Ihit Simon 
had already been manumitted by a mightier hand, and he was now past all fear of 
want, lie was lyiny; near his beloved master at the bottom of the Lake. John lived 
to defend his freedom at Liindy's Lane, and to draw a pension for fifty-seven years 
afterwards as some compensation for his wounds. 

Refugee slaves reached Canada always in the greatest destitution, and often utterly 
exhausted by their desperate race for freedom. Private benevolence and charitable 
organization found here a wide field for effort. Little colonies of refugees were formed 
in the alluvial tract occupied by the Counties of Kent and l-^ssex. In 1S48, .n tract of 
18,000 acres in tin: Township of Raleigh was, through the co-operatioo of the Gov- 
(^rnor-General, Lord Elgin, appropriated from the Crown lands as a refugee settlement, 
and the management was vested in the Elgin Association. The active spirit in the 
movement was the Rev. William King, who had liberated his own slaves in Louisiana, 
and secured their freedom by removing them to Canada in 1848. Mis colony rapidly 
grew in numbers, and became known as the Buxton Settleinent, — taking its name from 
the English philanthropis', Sir Thomas Eowell Huxton. 

Another colony of escaped slaves was formed on the confines of the Counties 
of Kent and Lambton. Here the founder and patriarch was no less famous a 
personage than C/nc/c Tom himself, or his other self, the Rev. Josiah Henson. 
Atmi Cliloc died many jears ago; but Uncle Tom reached the great ai" of ninety-four, 
and died at Dresden in May, 1883. 

The north-eastern shore of Lake St. Clair is a land of Batavian moisture and 
fatness. Innumerable streams, after irrigating northern Kent and the great county 
of Lambton, are gathered up by the East anil North Branches of Bear Creek, and 
poured into a side outlet of the River St. Clair. At the outlets of the St. Clair 
and Sydenham the ground lies low, and is subject to inundation. An area of 
some forty square miles, — known as the St. Clair Flats, — is occupied by lagoons and 
river-islands, forming the paradise of wild duck and the elysium of the sportsman. 
Two tracts, acquired under a ten years' lease from the Government of Canada, are 
held as close preserves by a company, which mantains a Club-House for the entertain- 
ment of the shareholders and their guests. Within and beyond the preserves, after 
the 14th of August, the crack of the shot-gun is inces^^antly heard throughout the 

The East Branch of the Sydenham would lead us up to Strathroy, a prosperous 
manufacturing town of Middlesex, on the highway of commerce between London and 
Sarnia. The North Branch takes us into the heart of Lambton, a rich champaign, 
dotted over with cosy villages. Threading our way through groves of derricks, we 



PIC rURESQ L '/•: CA X.I /hi 

ri-ai'h ill ICnniskillni llu; lu;ait of I'clrolcnim-Laiiil. lliis rownsliip, in iSOo, liccamr 
famous l)y tlur ilisi;ovt!ry of a llowini,' well, the first in Canada. H\ souk; dark ali:iiL'iny 
tlu! marine animals and plant t emheddcil in tiui slialcs and ciurinal limcstono that 
form tlic hase of tiu; "Hamilton" formation, have distilled out the complex mixtun; 
of thiuj^s that we j^jatlu^r up in the siniL^le word, I'ttrolcum. Crude oil is drawn 
chielly from the wells around I'etrolea, Oil Sprinj^s, and < )il City, and wafte-d, — with 
a very consideralile whiff, -to the ri:linerii:s in I'etrolea and London. There the 
"Crude" is decanted from tank-carts into a vast suhterraneaii rotunda of hoiler-plate, 
and the sand aiul water suhside to the bottom, I?y treatment with acid aiul alkali, 
"sweetness" is divorced from "liyht." l^istillation at carefully rej^ulatetl temiieratures 
yields a series of valuable |)rnducts, — thij^^oline, naphtha, kerosene, liibricatinjf oil, 
etc. ll(!avier Canadian petroleums are rich in paralVine ; the snowy whiteness of 
this beautiful substance contrasts strongly with the black, garlicky fluid from which 
it is extracted. 

A deep channel has been carried by the Government of the I'niled States 
through the St. Clair I'lats. We are now flanked on either side by dikes, and the 
great steamer s|iins its way o^''jr spots where La Salle's 45-ton craft woulil have 
grounded. Yonder white-oak forest on Walpole Island, with the Indians encamped in 
the glades, form a reminiscence of this landscape that La Salle beheld. A "magnifi- 
cent water-way," as Father Charlevoix rightly called it, now opens out before us. As 
we climb the River .St. Clair, a merry ripple of laughter plays around our bows. 'Die 
current still increases as we ascend ; anil at Point lulward it reaches the velocity of a 
rapid. Indeed, in pioneer days, the C.madian side v' this gateway into Lake Huron 
was known as T/ic Ra/^ids. 

Here a tract was set off, in 1829, by Sir John Colborne (Lord .Seaton), and, as 
a compliment to the Lieutenant-Governor's recent administration of Guernsey, the 
township was named Sarnia. To the toilers of 01 r Inland Seas, Sarnia forms a 
natural harbour of refuge. Our Canadian bank of the St. Clair here sweeps back into 
a deep curve, forming a noble bay with safe anchorage. The approach to the town 
from the water is very animated. Grain vessels are discharging at the great elevator; 
steamers arc lading for Port Huron and Detroit; Grand Trunk trains are labour- 
ing towards Point lulward, anxious to cast their burthen on ti>e back of the great 
ferry-boat. The river front is lined with substantial structure.;. — churches, hotels, 
blocks of stores and offices. In the vista are other church spires; Tor Sarnia tempers 
its commercial ambition with a secret pride in its churches. 'I he geographical 
advantages of Sarnia are inestimable ; Nature has indeed been kind to this pi -ce. 


./, ' ^^ 



t." > ' 

■'J ;.^r- 'Jt^' 

* ^■ 

TRour rooi. ON thk saiu.kkn. 


Mil", old Iliinui iriui, 
crcclcil politically in- 
to the " i luidii i )islii(t," 
d sur)sc(niciul_\' cli\iilc(l into the 
uiuifs of I'crtli, Jliiroii, .-iiul 
DriKc, lias Ix'cn settled so recently 
that tin; oldest inhal)itant, full of 
the folk-lore of ihe lirst settlers, 
is to lie found in c\'ery district. f'loderich. frontinj^ lh<? niij^lity lake, was its Hrst 

capital ; but while Cioderich, with all the advantages of water communication, will 



probably remain a town, Stratford, forty-six miles inlaml, has, thanks to railways, 
attained to the proportions of a city. Less than half a century ago the whole of this 
magnificent north-western section of the peninsula of Ontario, now rejoicing in 
thousands of homesteads, filled with the bounties of a veritable promised land, was 
covered with dense forest, the silence of whose solitudes was broken only by the bark 
of the wolf. So short was the time needed to convert the forest into the fruitful 
field. How much less time shall elapse before the lonely prairies of our North-west 
have become teeming Provinces ! 

John Gait and Dr. D mlop, to whom we referred when describing the birth of 
Guelph, founded Goderich and Stratford also. That Canada Company, which, with 
its real million and odd acres of land and its nominal million of sterling money, 
seemed to our fathers so overshadowing a monopoly, but which in our dajs of 
Syndicates seems a small affair, owned the whole Huron Block or Tract. Should the 
founders and capatalists of the Company get credit for being the necessary miildlenien 
who colonized the unbroken forest, or should they be denounced as land-grabbers who 
bought cheap from tiie Government and sold dear to the emigrant? It is not for us, 
whose vocation is to seek out such pictiirescjue bits as the trout-pools of the Saugeen, 
one of which our artist has faithfully sketched, to pronounce judgment. But certain 
it is that the Company secured a glorious tract; "the height of land" of Western 
Ontario, whence streams flow south to Lakes Erie and St. Clair, west to the fresh- 
water sea of Huron, and north through the escarpment that extends from Niagara 
across country all tlie way to tlie Land's End at Cabot's Head ; a country whose 
belts and fringes of glorious majjle, beach, ash and cathedral elms, still towering up 
every here and there, reveal tiie character of the forest primeval, and the character of 
th'j soil which now rewards the labours of the husbandman with "butter of kine and 
milk of sheep, and the fat of kidneys of wheat." 

Some men like, and others dislike. Colonization Companies; but all men will join 
in the prayer that, if the Companies must be, they maj' have managers like John 
Gait. He did his duty. More concerning him we need not say ; but a brief account 
of his first inspection of the Huron tract and of the beginnings of Goderich comes fitly 
in at this point. He arranged that Dr. Dunlop should start from (ialt with surveyors 
and others, and cut his way through the forest to the mighty Huron, while he himself 
went round by Lake Simcoe to Penetanguishene, to "embark there in a naval vessel and 
explore that part of the coast of Lake Huron, berween Cabot's Head on the north, 
and the river Aux Sables on the south, in order to discover, if possible, a iiarbour." 
At Penetanguishene he found that the Admiralty, with that curious geographical 
knowledge which still occasionally distinguishes it, had given orders that His Majesty's 
gunboat, the Bcc, should go with him to "Lake Huron in Lower Canada." He 
says, " We bore away for Cabot's Head, with the sight of which I was agreeably 


disappointed, liavinsf learned somethincf of its alleged stormy features, and ex 
to see a lofty promontory ; but the dt'scriptions were much e.\a<^_i;erated ; we saw only 
a woody stretch of land, not very lofty, lyinjr calm in the sunshine of a still after- 
noon, and instead of dark clouds and lurid lii,ditninjjjs, beheld only beauty anil calm. 
Having doubltxl this 'Good Mope' of the lakes, we then kept close along shore, 
examining all the coast with care, but we could discover only the mouths of inconsid- 
erable streams, and no indentation that to our insi)ection ai)peared suitable for a 

" In the afternoon of the following day, we saw afar off by our telescope a small 
clearing in the forest, and on the brow of a rising grouml a cottage delightfully 
situated. Tiie ap[)earance of such a sight in such a place was unex[)ected, and we 
had some debate if it could be the location of Dr. Dunlop, who had guided the land- 
exploring party alreadj- alludetl to ; nor wea; we left long in lioubt, for on approaching 
the place, we met a canoe having on board a strange combination of Indians, vel- 
veteens, antl whiskers, and discovered, within the roots of the red hair, the living 
features of the Doctor. About an hour after crossing the river's bed of eight feet, 
we came to a beautiful anchorage of fourteen feet of water, in an uncommonl)' pleasant 
small basin. The place had been .selected by the Doctor, and is now the site of the 
flourishing town of Goderich." 

Dr. Dunloi) was not the first white man who had pitched camp on the Menese- 
tung, as the Maitland Riser was called by the Imlian.s. More than two hundred 
years before his day, Chaiuplain had paddled his canoe round the far-extending coast 
line of the Georgian Bay and Lake Huron down to the Detrt)it River, and camped, 
lioth in going and returning, at the spot where Goderich now stands. Go where 
we will in Canada, from Nova Scotia to the Grand Manitoulin, the name of .Samuel 
de Champlain meets us. After his visit, the Jesuits maile the mouth of Menesetung 
a freipient calling-place on tiieir ex[)editions. But the lro(juois rootinl out llurons 
and Jesuits alike from Western Ontario, and for two centuries more the forest 
remained unbroken. With Gait, the modern history of the Huron Tract begins. 
I'rom tlu; Romans downwards, conquerors and colonizers have b<;en rt)ad-makers. 
Roads are now laid with steel rails. That is all the advance; wt; have made. " in 
opening roails to render remote lands accessible, and, of, more valuable, and 
to give employment to poor emigrants, consisted the pith and marrow of my 
out-door .system," .says Gait. His great work was a road through the forest of 
the Huron I ract, nearly a hundred miles in length, hy which an overland com- 
munication was established for the first time, between Lakes Huron and Ontario, a 
work as formidable to his resources as the Canada Pacific Railway now is to 
the resources of Canada. It was, however, indispensable. That was its vindica- 
tion. It was successfully cut through dense forests and carried over deep bogs 



1 ( 

IN Till--, I'AKK, (lOIir.KICH. 

and ever-reciirrin_£r black -ash 
swamps. " Tlioiigh the niagiii- 
tiidc of the ' Cn-sarcan operation' on the 
woods was gratifjing to the imagination, 
it yet occasioned some painful tngs to 
luinianity. One morning iii)wards of forty of the 
men came in afflicted with the ague ; they were of the 
colour of mummies, and by hanlships frigiufuliy emaciated." 
Yet wiu!n (ialt asked tiu; Directors for a doctor, no attention was paid 
/ to the retpiest ! Hut, difticullies notwithstanding, the road, such as it was, 
struggled into lieing; and in i<S_;3, a jiost ran once; a fortnight Ixitween 
Goderich ;uh1 ducilpli. Midway was .Str.ili'ord, so intended by nature ft)r a centre, 
that it was a town on papc-r in llie Company's offices before; a housi; was built on 
the Avon or the survey of the Huron road was commenct;d. Dr. Dunlop gave 
instructions, before; starting on liii o\'erlaud journey to meet (ialt at the mouth of 
the Menesetung, that one of the lhr(;(; ta\erns, for which tin; Compar.)- offi;red 
bonuses, shouitl be !)uiit at .Stratforti, and 1)(; the half-way house between the settle- 
ments and Lake Huron. His instructions were not carried out, but in 1S31 one 
William Sergeant was ])resented i)\- the Company with a lot in lite proposed town, 
on condition of his starting a tavern there. Thus Stratford came into i)eing. In 
iS5_;, it l)ecaine an incorporated village, and it is now tlie chief town of the county 
of I'trlh. \\ hetlu;r or not the Conipan\- intended tiie name of the town and the 
riv(;r as a complim(;nt to Shakespeare is not known, but certainly the citizens are 
proud of the name, ami the place is all compact of the great poet. The five 




black - asli 
lie magiii- 
II ' on the 
I tilths to 
ty of the 
e of the 

was paid 
IS it was, 
a centre, 
; huiit on 
lop gave 
mouth of 
y offered 
Ik; settle- 
183 1 on(! 
ied town, 
ling. In 
e counl) 

and tlie 
izens are 
The five 

municipal wards are respectiv(;ly entitled Shakespeare, Avon, Hamlet, Romeo, and 
I'alstaff, and an inscription declares that the foundation sione of tlie spacious town- 
hall was laid on "April 23d, 1S64, the ter-centenary of Shakespeare's birth." 

Stratford is situated at the junction of Tue townships, and is the centre of a 
beautifully rolling and fertile countrj". Fields waxing with golden grain, and rich, 
deep-green pastures on which flocks and herds are contentedly ijrowsing, tell of those 
resources that are the true basis of a country's material growth, because their most 
abundant giving develops and does not impoverish. Extensive orchards, principally 
of apples and plums, 
and fringes of fine, 
liard - wood trees, add 
to the general air of 
warmth, and, almost 
everywhere, farm-houses 
of stone, brick, or first- 
class frame, tell that 
the people have got 
beyond the mean sur- 
roundings with which 
of necessity the first 
decades of settlement 
are associated. The 
barns are e\en more 
full of promise than 
the residences ; for, let 
no traveller in the 
country ever forget the 
advice of the Clock- 
maker of Slickville, to 
select as his quarters "^ 

for the night a home- 
stead dwarfed b)' huge barns, 
and to avoid big houses beside small or 
dilapidated barns as the gates of death. 
In the wholf! county there is no stony, 
rocky, or hilly land. Its characteristic 
features is the softly -sloping fruitful 

valley which our artist has selected for his nrst illustration. As a consequence the 
county town has grown steadily and surely, and has become an important market 






for farm products and a home 
of growiiitj industries. Its mer- 
chants and manufacturers ship 
directly to Enj:i^land and othe 
countries beyond seas, as far as 
Australia; and as it is now a 
great railway centre, its producers have 
every facility for communicating with dis- 
tant markets. The Cirand Trunk, the Port 
Dover & Huron, the Stratford & Huron, the 
Wellington, Grey & Bruce, and the Buffalo 
& Lake Huron Railways, run through the 
county ; and its pleasant valleys have thus all 
the life and movement that constantly passing and 
re-passing trains give, to the great relief of what 
would otherwise be the dulness and monotony of 
rural beauty. The Grand Trunk Railway removed its 
shops from Toronto to Stratford in 1871, chiefly because 
of the advantages promised by its central position. An impulse was 
thereby given to the growth of the place , for the monthly disburse- 
ments connected with those works amount to over thirty thousand dollars. The 
character of the citizens,— and this remark applies to the other towns of the county as 
well,— may be seen in the sacrifices they make ungrudingly for the education of their 



chiklrcn. The Ward and Separate Schools arc very j^ood, and the High School, 
perched on a noble elevation, and with its spire rising to an altitude of 120 feet, is 
specially worthy of note. Its first (loor, with lofty and airy class-rooms, serves as 
High School, the second is assigned to the Central School, and the third is a 
spacious assemhl) room. It is huilt of white brick, with bands and enrichments of 
red. At a point on the opposite side of the lower bridge, its massive bulk and 
graceful outlines appear to great advantage. The bluff on which it stands slopes 
abruptly upwards from the river to a height of about fifty feet. Masses of wil- 
lows, majiles, and elms clothe its sides, whose soft foliage and various shades of 
greer. are in fine contrast with the rich cream colour of the building and the sharp 
angles of its pinnacled roof. l-'rom the cupola the spectator looks out on a splendid 
expanse of cultivated fields and pastures, with dark forests stretching to the horizon. 
At his feet is the stirring town, irregularly shaped, partly concealed among trees, 
clasping its five townships in a helpful bond, the silver stream of the river adding life 
and l)eauty to the picture. The illustration gives one of the picturesque features of 
the landscape;. From a point on the left bank of the Avon, in a direction nearly 
east, the opposite side rises by terraces to an elevation of about fifty feet, on the 
highest point of which, fronting the principal street of the town, the beautiful 
Presbyterian Church has been erected, its Gothic spire towering gracefully to the 
height of 215 feet. To the right of the church the upper story and cupola of an 
hotel breaks the outline, and in the foreground are groups of buildings and trees 
bounded by the glistening waters of the river. 

From the long bridge, another pretty bid of landscape may be seen. The river 
at this point takes a graceful curve to the right. In the distance its banks slope 
upwards into a rich expanse of pasture, on which sheep appear paceefully feeding, 
walled in by the lofty trees of the forest beyond, while to the left a stately elm 
bends its branches over a pretty private residence. Again, looking down the river, 
to the right, a glimpse is caught of the Court House, with antique cupola and pillared 
front, all but hidden among the willows. Beyond it, on the same terrace, is the 
Episcopal, and farther, on the height, the Roman Catholic Church ; both edifices 
are Gothic, of course. 

Diverging from Stratford to either right or left, we come upon thriving, hopeful 
and progressive communities. To the north is Listowel, on the Maitland River, full 
of energy and public spirit, and Palmerston, named after " plucky Pam," which has 
grown in a few years from a railway station into a busy town with a rapidly in- 
creasing population. On the other side of Stratford is the celebrated grain market 
of St. Mary's. The Old World name of this prosperous place is due not so much 
to the devout spirit of the founders, as to their mingled gallantry and shre^vdness. 
But the mixture did not pay quite as well as was expected. Met together to 



christen " the Falls," as the locality was named from the Thames rushing over a 
succession of rapids at this point, the wife of the Commissioner of the Canada Company 
being present, suggested her own as a good nanie in default of a better, and at the 
same time offered /'lo towards the construction of a much-needed school-house. 
The suggestion was accepted, and so were the ten pounds. Mrs. Mary Jones was 
canonized on he spot, and from that day the place was styled St. Mary's. Hut 
the Commissioner himself had a frugal mind. The people built their school-house 
at a total cost of ^loo, and applied for the bonus of ten pei cent, offered by the 
Company for all such public improvements, when the Company, through the Com- 
missioner, reminded them that they had already received ^lo, exactly tlie ten per 
cent, contemplated ! I-'rom what source those ten [jounds came has not yet been 
quite ascertained. At any rate the town got a pretty name, and was probably 
saved from being dubbed something " ville," that terrible affix which over tiie whole of 
this continent is apparently supposed to be equal to a patent of nobility, or, at the very 
least to convey with it a sort of brevet rank. 

Proceeding by rail in the direction of Lake Huron, and passing the flourishing 
towns of Mitchell, Seaforth and Clincon, we come to Goderich, situated at the mouth 
of the Maitland River. The Lake, whose modern name is taken from the soubriquet 
of hire or wild boar, given by the French to the Wyandotte Indians on account of the 
manner in which they dressed their hair, is now before us ; a pratically inexhaustible 
reservoir of sweet water of crystal purity, without a rival on earth ijut the miglu\' 
rivals, or the mightier Superior in its own neighbourhood. Including the Georgian Bay 
and the Manitoulin Ray, it has an area of about 22,000 square miles, so that European 
kingdoms like Holland and Belgium might be dropped into it, and, as the average 
depth is 860 feet, they would leave " not a wrack behind." Where all this fresh water 
comes from is a mystery. The volume altogether transcends our ordinary measures. 
The altitude of the Lake above the Atlantic being less than 600 feet, it follows that 
nearly 300 feet of its contents are below the level of the ocean. No wonder that 
storms on Lake Huron can pile up rollers that seem respectable in the eyes of those 
who know what the Atlantic can do in this way ; but it is a wonder that most of the 
steamers on the Lake should carry so much top-hamper and be so little on the model 
of ocean-going craft. At almost any time during the season of navigation, travel- 
lers on Huron and its sister lakes may count on cool breezes or .something stronger, 
except during the Indian summer in the latter portion of November, when the air is 
mild and warm, with a soft haze covering the sky, while the great expanse of water 
remains smooth for two or three unbroken weeks. 

As seen from the Lake, Goderich lies in the centre of a large curve of the coast ; 
and with its church spires, public edifices, and pretty private residences, enriched with 
the bright, green foliage of abundant trees, it has an air of quiet and almost sleepy 




beauty. On closer inspection, it is obvious that its j^rowih has not been left to acci- 
dent, nor to the caprices of individual taste, but has been provided for by forethought 
and plan. Less than a mile from the shore, a small nark was laid out in the form 
of an octagon, in the centre of which is now the town-hall, wiiii cu|K)la and clock, its 
four sides facing the four quarters of the compass. I'"rom thi:. central point, spacious 
streets radiate north, south, east, and west, intersected by other streets at measured 
distances, along which shade trees have been planted abundantly. Beyond the town, 
to the landward side, the eye wanders over a vast and fertile plain, bearing in sum- 
mer all the products of the temperate zone, peaches, almost equal to those of the 
Niagara district, included. To this rich plain, dark-green patc'es of reserved forest 
trees give the aspect of the glorious park-lands of England. Lakewards the bound- 
less expanse of an inland sea meets the eye, extending its glistening waters to a far 
horizon. Here and there, at wide intervals, the level floor of water is broken by the 
white sails of a ship or fishing boat, or by the dark smoke of a distant steamer. 

The corporation of Goderich has wisely secured an extensive portion of the bluff 
fronting the lake for a public park. Laid out with walks and adorned with trees, it 
is the chief resort of the town, and a favourite resort for )'oung and old. Our first 
illustration represents a view taken from the high projecting point of the park, which 
looks sheer down on Ogilvie's big flouring mill. Here, a grand prospect is obtained 
of tile Lake, its far-extending rugged shores, and the river, in the hoMjw, winding 
its tortuous way among grassy islets. Seated on one of the benches, or reclining 
under the lofty acacia trees, the stranger gazes with never-tlagging interest on the 
extraordinary combination of colours that the waters of the Lake present. Near the 
shore, probably because of the wash that stirs up the sand, is a broad band of 
mingled yellow and earth colour; then, green gradually predominates till it becomes 
pure green; and beyond that the deep blue that reflects the sky. Under the influ- 
ence of cloud masses, or still more strikingly at sunset, bands of richest violet, purple, 
and every hue of the rainbow, fuse themselves between and into the main divisions of 
colour, till the heavens are a blaze of indescribable glory, and the Lake is one mass of 
glowing, shifting tints, with definite outlines of such singular beauty thiit the picture 
is never likely to be forgotten by any one who has the soul of an artist. 

Perched on another projecting bluff, that by some special favour is yet preserved 
from the destruction of the elements, the Light-house looks almost sheer down on the 
harbour. It contains a fixed light, consisting of numerous lamps with silvered 
reflectors, and sheds its welcome rays far over the dark waters. To the right, lies 
the harbour in the deep hollow or recess which the united waters of river and lake 
have eaten out of the land. A broad breakwater shields it from the wash of the 
Lake, and the entrance is prelected by two long piers of crib-work. Massive as these 
defences are, they cannot altogether resist the hydraulic force of the waves, when the 

' 1:1 li' 
: i 




storm .s\vcci)s from the wiiury north. As, however, Goilerich is one of the very few 
harbours on tliis exposed coast into which belated vessels can run for refuj^i', and is 
besides a i)rinci|)al shippini:,^ |)ort for sjjrain and lumber, the Dominion Ciovernment 
wisely keeps the breakwater in repair. Alon<j^ the coast, to the north and the south, 
are several forest-crowned and rui,f;4ed indentations, whose escarpments indicate that 
the Lake is \)\ a slow but sure process absorbinjj the land. Lonj,f aj^es ago, the fertile 
plains which form tiie peninsula of Ontario lay as a seiliment in the depths of a 
vastly i^^reater lake tiian lluron. The !j;radual elevation of the continent ilrove the 
ancient waters into their present contracted channels. I'Lvidently a reaction has set 
in by which the Lake threatens to reclaim its own attain ; anil the time ma)' come 
when, in ileliance of all that man can do, the beautiful pniinsula, now full of human life 
and activity, may return to its watery betl, or become like the swamps of St. Clair. 

Goderich leaped into temporary importance a few years ago as the centre of a 
new industrial interest in Ontario. The Geological Reports of .Sir William Logan 
early annoimced that the Onondaga group of salt rocks of the .Silurian series under- 
lay the drift and limestones of a [lart of Western Ontario; but not till 1866 was 
salt actually discovered. In this, as in a thousand other cases, searchers sought one 
thing anil found another; the moral, — ^that cannot be too earnestly impressed on the, 
citizens of a country, a great part of which scientific prospectors have not yet explored, — 
being, st^arch ami you arc sure to find something. In this case, the discover)' 
was made b)' a man of resolute spirit who, in the face of doubts, fears, and 
disappointments, was boring, on the north bank of the Maitland, in the neighbour- 
hood of Godericii, for oil, without thought of salt. At that time, peojjle were lioring 
for oil in almost ever)' likely sjx)! in the western part of the peninsula. At the 
d';pth of about one thousand feet, he came upon brine of the linest ipiality. Three 
beds, respectively of 19, 30, and 32 feet, were found, with slight intervals between, 
of pure crystalline salt, and others w^ere subsequently reported of 60 and 80 feet in 
thickness. The new industry paid so well at first that every one in Goderich in- 
vested in salt wells, nearly as eagerly as people a thousand miles away invest in the 
corner lots of paper towns in the north-west. The valle)' of the Maitland was soon 
covered with derricks, and the investors were happy. Hut good brine was discovered 
in other places, the Canadian demand proved too limited for the number of manufac- 
turers, and the United .States market was "protected." Soon, most of the .salt works 
had to be operated only partially or to close altogether. The confiding people who 
had invested their savings in them during the salt " boom," now gaze mournfully on 
the smokeless chimneys and buildings tumbling into ruin, that tell of wasted capital and 
effort. The story has a moral, but a new generation is not likely to learn it, for 
seemingly each new generation has to pay for its own experience. 

The area of salt rocks has been found to stretch from .Sarnia to Southampton, 



and east to a ])oint bcyontl th(! 
prosperous town of Seaforth. 
They are the deposits of an ancient land- 
locked lake, emhraciniT a part of Michiy^an 
in the west, the Ontario Peninsula on the east, and stretch- 
\wg south as far as Syracuse in New York. The salt 

was soliilified, und(;r conditions hard for us to inia^ijine, and in (juantities sufficient to 
supply this continent for asjes. As the salt rock is dissolved by the water that runs 
down the bore from sprins^s, it follows that the older the well the more abundant and 
constant will be the flow of brine, and that subterranean salt lakes will be formed of 

increasing extent and depth. At one of the mills, such an underground cavity lately 


PfCTlR/;sOC/- C.I. V.I p. I. 

swallowed u\) several liuiidnd f<'et of ir )ii tlll)i^},^ and llie rise in llic level of llie 
brine was siicli lliat seventy feet less of new tnhe sufticed to replace tlii old. 

Tile cliemiial anaKsis of Dr. .Sterry lliint in iSt)6 indicated that llie salt was the 
purest known, and the most eoncentrated possible. .Siil)se(|uent tests, however, have 
shown a ilecided ehanL^e, nidioatinLf an increase of jjjjpsnni and the solui)le earthy 
chlorides of calcium and nia:.,niesiuni. This nia\' arise from the i)rine actinj^ as a 
solvent of the ov(!rlying earths, anil increasing; the impuri; elements. Chemical pio- 
cesscs become, therefore, necessary to eliminate these foreij,ni inj^redients, and by 
this means the finest tabh- salt, and salt of any (piality for antiseptic or aj^^ricidtural 
purposes, may Ik; made. The lirine is almost a saturated solution, haviuj:; a density 
from thirty to fifty per cent, i^reater than any yi't found in the United States. As 
yet the Chemical Company of CuKlerich is the only one that invoke the aid of 
chemistry ; but science! ;uid new metiiods must come into play universally if we are to 
holil our own and develop oi.i sail or any oth('r inilustr\'. "Lack of t'uiish " is 
frequently ur^cd aijainst Canadian products, and there is some iLjround for the charj^c, 
notwithstantlinj,^ all tliat a short-sii^lued and miscalled patriotism may say. We may be 

(piite sure that such an (objection, if 
at all founiled on fact, will be fatal 
in those days of fierce competition 
and nice adjustment of means to ends. 
In 1880, an Ontario Aj^ricultural 
Commission was appointed to incjuire 
into the a<,fricultural resources of the 
Province, and matters connected there- 
with, and the commissioners found 
that salt now enters so lartjely into 
the business of the producer, es- 
peciall)- as ret^ards cheese and butter- 
makint,r, pork-packing, and the ferti- 
lizing of the soil, that its consideration 
could not well be ignored by them. 
They therefore made inijuiries into 
its manufacture, the extent to which 
it is used, and the prejudices againiit 
Canadian and in favour of E!nglish 
salt. The result of their inquiries was, that if properly manufactured and carefully 
dried, the well-known purity of Canadian salt is fully equalled by its adaptability to 
all dairying purposes, ami its excellence as a factor in the work of fertilization. To 
show how extensively it is now being used in the west of the Province, it was 




stated tliiit a S(!af()rth lirin liail in tlircc 
months of tin; tlicii current year sokl 63,000 
iDiis for fcrtili/injr pur|)()ses. The eviclemi;, 
with scarcely an (exception, was also com- 
pletely in favour of tlu; use of salt as an 
a^rent in enrichinj^ the farm, prf)niotin,!j^ the 
^^rowth, and |)rotectinjj; the (;arly plant of 
the root cro|)s ajj;ainst the 
ravaj^es of the (ly, and as 
a remedy for some of the 
enemies that assail the sprin}^ 
wheat crop. It is no small 
tribute to the purity of Cana- 
dian salt that, notwithstand- 
ini,f the hitrh fiscal duty of 
the L'Uited States, it is used 
in immense quantities in the 
},freat American pork-packing 
centres. On the other hand, 
ICnglish salt is brought to Canada at little 
more than ballast rates, in vessels that come 
for freights of grain or lumber to Halifax, 
Quebec and Montreal. Of course this salt 
is admitted free of duty, and as it is used 
by the fishermen and the population generally 
of the liastern and Maritime Provinces of 
the Dominion, the area over which Canadian 
salt can be profitably distributed is very much 

The International is the largest of the 
Cioderich salt-works. It is situated just out- 
side the town boundary, on a high bluff over- 
looking the Lake. Our illustration i)resents 
two picturesque aspects of the works. In the 
foreground of the first the buildings arc seen 
with the usual truncated pyramid covering the 
well. Near it is a stage, from which salt in 
barrels or bulk is discharged into small cars 
that run on a tramway to a pier on the Lake. 





High(!r up, a similar trt-stle-stage 

is seen, from which the salt is poureci 

throujrh Ioiil;' enclosed chutes to a re- 

ceivinjr house below, to i)e carrier! thence to the pier for shipmi;nt. In the second, 

\vc have a |)art of the works as seen from the lon^if pier. Tiie tramway curves 

up the dee|) iiollow. and disappears behind the receivinsf house into which the two 

narrow chutes iMiler from tiie lofty trestle-work above. On the left is the bare, 

weather-worn escarpment tiiat fronts the Lake, and on the rijrht is tiie wooded and 

verdure-clad ravine seen in both \ iews 

I'ew counties in Canada are so j;^enerally fertile and so spiendiiliy adapted for 
farminjr as Huron, and its rapid and steady development is simply what might have 
been anticipateti from the class of people by whom it was settled. Everywhere it 
presents a gently undulating, well-watered and well-wooded appearance. In the 
south, the character of the land is a very rich vegetable deposit, underlaid by tin- 
strongest of clay subsoils. As we go north, it becomes lighter, but ever)where tin; 
crops are excellent, and evidences of increasing wealth and comfort may be seen on 



fvery hand. Towns lik(! Seafnrtli, Clinton and \Vin;,diain an' already important ccntrus 
of trade. altliou),di almost every house looks as if it had come reicntly out of the 
huilder's hanils. Half a dozen risin^r villa;.jt;s are likely soon to "evolve" into towns, 
altliouj;h no county has ^Ivcn a lar}.jer contin^'ent of youn^( uumi and the very cream 
of its population lo the North-west than Huron, .\s the tr.iv(;ller drives alonjf the well- 
made },'ravelled roads, lined with brijirht-yellow iroUlen-rods, and the purple Michaelmas 
d.iisy, lu! see:; broad aires of wavin),^ corn and luxuriant unadow strtitchinj,' far away 
on each side, a stump-ilotted patch here ami there alone remindiniL; him that all this has 
just been won from the wilderness, and liiat the settler's arrival dales from yesterday. 

I.eavinjf Goderich regretfully, — for its pure atmosphere, the abundance of its salt 
and fresh waters, ami its (glorious sunsets, coiid)ine to uiake it a tleli;,dufid sum- 
mer resort, — we may proceed northward by one of the Sarnia steamers, touchinjj 
hrst at Kincardine;, the chief market-place of tlu; County of Bruce, or travel over- 
land to Walkerton, the county town. The- nortli-w(;stern extremity "f the peninsula 
of Ontario is politically divided into the counties of Bruce and Crey. Tlhelr jfeneral 
aspect ami the nature of the surfac<' are deltirmiiied i)y the jjeological form. on. The 
great escarpment of rock, embracin,i,r the lludson Riv(rr, Niaj^ara and ( 'h forma- 

tions, which, as " the Mountain " winds round tlu; head of Lake Ontario, turns in a 
north-westerly direction, curves gradually more to the west, and sweeps tl'.rough the 
northern part of Lake; Huron, cutting off the (ieorgian Hay and North Channel from 
the main body of the Lake by the Indian Peninsula and the (irand Manitoulin and 
other islands. 'I'his geological fact results in a comparatively level surface in the 
southern and western portion of the tract, while the north-eastern becomes broken and 
hilly in the interior, and rugged anil rocky near the (ieorgian Bay. Bruce is a very 
new county, the settlements, excepting a few on the Lake shore, not dating back 
more than thirty years. 'Ww lirst settler built his shanty, it is said, as recently as 1848. 
Nowhere are we more surjjrised at being told of its extreme youth than Vvhen we see 
Walkerton. a beautiful litth; town, pleasantly situated in a saucer-shaped valley formed 
by the windings of the Saugeen. Its main street was "blazed" through the unbroken 
forest as the line of the Durham road in 1854. The people of Bruce are largely 
immigrants from the Western Highlands and Islands of Scotland, and the children of 
immigrants who settled in more easterly parts of Ontario a generation earlier. In 
many of the townships Gaelic is the prevailing language, and it is regularly used 
for the conduc of divine service in many of the churches. 

The southern part of Bruce is rolling, the undulations being so long and gentle 
as hardly to admit of our using the terms hill and valley. Clear, beautiful running 
streams wind through the depressions, the majority of them feeders of the Sable and 
Saugeen, which flow north-westerly into Lake Huron. The whole county is magnifi- 
cently watered, and the growth of limber is very heavy, Fine is scarce, except in the 



Teeswater ami otlu-r tributaries ol tin' Sautj^ccn. Tlicrc is a lary^o proportion of gravel 
ill tlic soil, hut tlic land is s^ooil, ami ilic farms an; wt'll littcd for cither arable or 
jjra/inj;' purposes. Stranj^ers ofieli express astoiiisliiiu-iu at tin; si^hi of excellent farms 
with houses and v)uli)uildint:^s of ioj;- or inferior frame, but ilie explanation is thai man\ 
of tlie i)eople JKue only reacheil tlii' sta^e of pntlini^' their land in order for the 

plou<;h. Some have ad\anc(.'d to the point of buiklins; ^^ooil 1 
reachcii the thinl sta<5e of haxiuij' superior dwcdlinij' houses. I" 

)arns, am 

1 a few ha\( 

ruit tjrowmir is \v\. in 

its infancy. Peaches can be cultivated successfully only on the Lake shon;, but apples 

and plums iia\i' shown astomshin<;' results n tiie size and beauty ot the s|)ecime:is sent 

uul b 

.f th 

to the As. 

Itural l^xhibitions. Tin 

ir raiiLic ( 

if the ind 


tninsula sei-ms 

naturallv litted to bt'come one ol the tinest portions of the l)ominion for the ijrowth 

of apples, plums, and grapes. 

riiat the soil is 

• •ooil, ihouiif 

h 1; 

ir''('l\ rockv or stoiu', 

the immense sni^ar maples ami elms witness. The temper;, lure is kept low in the 

spriiiL;' inont 

ths b\- the ice in the ("ieor<fian I5av, and ih 

is retanled, while tiu' I; 

us tne hlossomimr o 

f t: 

xvy l)ody ol water on each sale secures exemption from 

le trees 

summer and early autumn hosts. 

Mut our steamer is drawiusj near the harbour for which we took tickets at 

Cioderich. Kincardine is situated at the mouth of the I'enetaiisjore, 

corruption of 

(han word 

nu'anin>'- a stream with i-nu'el on one side, and saiul on the- other. 


and su 

le. th 

e \lll.l''('. w 


1 rises Irom tlu; shore l)\' a st-ries ol terrac(!s, is encom 

f t( 



])assed by a fertile and beautiful ram;e of townships. The river, which runs through 

it, thouL;'h turbulent enouiL.'h in spring, shrinks to a ri\iilet in summe 


s course 


been skiltulK' turned northwari 

blockiiv'' the old channel and cuttiiu 

a new one 

in order to provide atletpiate accommod.ition 
Western Railroad, which has its terminus 


le northern extension ol the (in'at 

at Kincardiiii 

By an abrupt bend, the 

stream now jiasses into an 

artificial harb 

huh IS protect; 

ly two long ])iers 

of crib-w(U-k, form 

iiig a cli.innel wide and iiee]) enougii 

1 d( 

to lioat ihe larixest ships that 


rati; the Lake, 


llghtdiouse IS i>laced near the 


I of the iioitli |iier, and 




steamer passes uj) tl'.is narrow entrance, the passeiiv. 

another at the harhour. 

comiii"' to the bow to see the por; that they are making, alter a thirty miles' sail on 

the Lak( 
in the distan 


le illustration shows the north pier with both liirht-houses on the left; 

ce. one o 

f tl 

aree salt works, with lish-houses, that skirt the harbo 


incarduie reposes i 

n tlu 

anil jiart of the village above. As seen from the Lake, K 

hollow of a ij-raceful cur\e of tlu; coast, the extreme points distant about eiirhteen 


iles, the cliffs li(>re and there co\'ered with 

native tr(;es that descend to ihe waters 


^i.yX'Si'., but in most places cut into ,ui 

d w, 

isted bv the erosion of the elemeiils. 

village has a llourishing appearance. The public sipiare is planted with ornamental 
trees, and contains a beautiful Methodist Church, with the Model .School on one side, 


d a large Town Hall on the other. The business centre consists of a 1 

oiisj-, wi 




KVKNlXt; .\r SOUIllAMPI'dN. 

luiilt street. To tlic north, on ;i Iicis^lu ovcrlooUiiiL;- tlic \!'I;it;;c, is llic l'rcsl)yt(jri;in 
Cliurch, ;i lai'm- (iotliic edifice, the intt:rior el;il)oratel\' Irescoed, ami the exterior only 
wantiiiL;' a spirt; to make; it etjual in aijpearanct- to tiie I) -t of our tiiy cluirches. 

Kinranliiu; followetl (ioilerlch in the s])erulali\i' mania that arose on tlu; first 
iliseovefy of salt. Tlie l>orim;s, iio\v(;\'er, \v('re \visel\' made on the low l)eaeii and not 
on the hij^ii cliffs ; and .dthon^h less pietures(iuc were K;ss costlw '\\\v\ had tlu; 
advanta<;e, too, of heim; c-los(- to railroad and hai^hour. .Salt of tlie best iiuality was 
fonnil at a ilepth of ahont 900 fetit, ami three sui)stantial works wen; erected, cai)able 
of turning out a thousand barrels per day. Here, as at Goderich, over-production led 




to the inevitable consequences, and capital was wasted. Only one of the wells is now 
bein^' worked, but it is hopeil that iniprcjved methods of manufacture and an increased 
demand may re\ive the others. 

An illustration presents a view of the salt works from the broad, sand\' beach to 
tile nortii of the hariiour. The two lont^ |)iers, juttinij; far out into the ileeji waters 
of the Lake, look like one in the distance. On the n(;arer is the outermost li<jht- 
house, while beyontl is the \ast Lake, its waters i^listenini; under a brilliant summer 
sky, llecked here aiul tlK.-re with fleecy cloutls. The Lake is, of couise, the main 
feature ot the scenery of this western coast, and it L^ives a wontk^ful charm to every 
place that it touches. liie tune will come when tin; waterini^-places on these shores 
will be more prizetl by the people of the inland towns. Here, they can tj(!t close at 
hand fn^sh breezes, and a broad, s;ind\' beach, while a small expenditure at almost any 
point will provide all needed facilitie's for bathinj^. l\ few mil(!s north of Cioderich a 
comfortable summer hotel has been started, especially for the accommodation of 
tourists, and a pleasanter place to speml a week in it would ix; difficult to find. The 
immediate surroundings are those of a larije farm rather than of an hotel ; and one 
has only to stroll down the wooded bank and alonjr the beach to get at once into a 



region whose perfect peace is broi<en only by tlie many-voiced laughter of the Lake or 
the tluiiuler of wave's rolling in with the majesty of ocean. Similar resorts will be 
multiplied indefinitely ; for modern life is intense, and periods of relaxation are essen- 
tial. No influences e.xert a more healing balm on the fevered spirit than those that 
constantly stream out from the desert or the forest, the mountains or the sea ; and to 
the people of Western Ontario, Lake Huron is no indifferent substitute for the sea. 

The ancient occ. pation of fishing is a more profitable industry to the people of 
Kincardine than salt manufacture. Large and substantial wherries leave the harbour 
at the early dawn, and return about noon from their favourite resorts, which lie about 
twenty miles distant. The ordinary catch varies from one to two thousand poimds. 
The fish are generally cleaned oii the Lake, and on the boat's arrival ui port they 
pass into a contractor's hands, by whom they are shipped to the markets of Canada 
and tile United States, either packed in ice or — according to a new plan — frozen, 
unless when they are pickled or barrelled. The fish usually caught in the northern 
Lakes are : — the salmon trout, from twenty-four to sixty inches long, and sometimes 
weighing forty pounds ; the white-fish, the pride of Canadian waters and by many 
_i^onr>iii-/s consideretl the finest of the fishy tribe ; the lake herring, very abundant at 
certain seasons in shallow waters, and not unlike the herring of the ocean ; the lake 





sturgeon and the gar fish, survivors of the ganoid and armour-clad fish of the 
Palaeozoic age. Bass, perch, and the spotted trout — the joy of the sportsman — are 
caught by amateurs in the rivers and creeks, and by every boy who can lift a rod, and 
every loafer, when he can summon energy enough to take his hands out of his pockets, 
or a little more than he needs to fill his pipe. The farther north the better and the 
more abundant the fish. Hence, the more southern fishermen, after the spring catch, 
go north to Killarney, and as far as the fishing grounds and ports of Lake Superior. 

But we must go on to Southampton, the next port at which the steamer touches, 
if we would see the most famous fishing grounds and the headquarters of the fishing 
industry on Lake Huron. This village was the earliest settlement in the county of 
Bruce, and its founders, animated by hopes and ambitions, laid out a town-plot large 
enough for a city. But the fates were against it, and — strange fortune for any place 
in Western Ontario^it is stationary or positively declining. The brisk village of 
Port Elgin, where the educational institution or "college" of the United Brethren is 
situated, drew away its business, and now it is a little like one of those decayed 
families that linger lovingly in memory and speech on the glories of the past. No 
newspaper is published in the village. What more need be said to show how 
uninfluenced it is by the spirit of the age ! Southampton, notwithstanding, is a 
charming spot, the very sleepiness of its inhabitants making it pleasant to visitors 
who long for nothing so much as repose. The village is situated at the mouth 
of the Saugeen, at the axis of a large curve of the coast. The mouth of the river 
is sheltered by a long pier of crib-work fr^.n the sweep of the north winds, and thus 
a harbour for the fine fishing boats of tlie place is formed. The principal harbour, 
however, is at some distance to the south of this river harbour. The construction of 
massive piers or breakwaters from the main shore to the end of Chantry Island, with 
a suitable entrance, has formed a magnificent anchorage for the largest vessels in the 
severe storms to whicii this whole coast is exposed. At the other end of the island, 
a large beacon has been erected at some distance from the shore, to indicate the limits 
of the channel and the extent of a dangerous shoal. The island is evidently part of 
an extensive bar, formed by the waters of the Saugeen and the Lake, w aich stretches 
along the whole front of the village, enclosing a deep basin with channels at l)oth 
ends. Immense quantities of large boulders of granite, gneiss, and trap are found on 
the shoal, brought down by floes of shore ice from the northern coast ; a fine instance 
of the process by which sand, gravel, and boulders have for countless ages been 
distributed over the northern regions of the earth. 

The river harbour or cove is the one frequented by the fishermen. Their wharves 
line its right bank. Here, too, are their houses for cleaning, packing, and storing fish 
and tackle, with cottages intermixed, and reels for drying or repairing their nets. 
Looking down this side of the river our illustrations give us two views. In the one 



f i ■ 



/ 'ic tl:r ( i-: ca na da . 




the huts and lioats are iintlcr tlic shadi-'v of a cloud, and tlic IiIl^Ii lianks on Ixitli 
sides arc seen looniini^ in tlic distance, wiiile liie llowini^ waters of tlie ri\cr are ii^iitcd 
uj) liy a ojeani from tlie rifted sk\'. Tiie otlier is presented in i)riL;iu siuisiiinc!. A 
group of lirs lies to the rij^iu of ti.e cove ; on tlie sloping liank to the left ,ire !j;roups 
of huts and cottat^es ; in front art- the \vharv(-'s, with hoats just arri\ inj^r, and, in the 
distance, the shininiering \vat(-rs of tin- l.aki-. 

The villai^re jjroper lies between the two harbours, and, by a ijradual ascent, 
stretches back a loni,' way to the rear. A lake on the heights, covering a space of 
about twentj' acres, and of unknown depth, is a luriositx' in its way. Apparenth' it has 
neither inlet nor outlet, so that whence its watcM- couk-s and wiiilher it goes can only 
be conjectured. Doubtless it is fed by the drainage of the higher land tiiat sjirings 
up witiiin its l)ed, ami r(!tains its invariable level by a corres|)onding drainage of its 
waters through the stratified sand into the Lake below. It might easily be made the 
centre of a beautiful public park, were it not for a tanner)' recentl)' erected on its 
bank by the aid of a bonus. Niagara is turned to base uses, ami how can icssi'r 
glories hope to escape di;s(H;ration ? We are at present, thanks to our constant strug- 
gle with nature, in that stage of existence in which tall cliimiK ys are regarded as more 
beautiful objcjcts than those which crowned the Acropolii;.* ,\ mill is a \ision of 
delight, proudly pointed out to the strangc'r. and the hum of machinery is sweeter 
than the music of the spheres. We c-stimate the amount of haiipin(;ss likely to be 
enjoyed in city or \illage by the mmiber of its manufactures, and we arc supremely 
Indifferent to the opinion of more cultured peoi)le. who would agree with our estimate 
on condition that they were allowed to make it in\-ersely. Of course, the artist can 
have no symjjatlu' with such seininients, but he might regartl them as not sim])ly 
indicating the savage state- of biMUg, hail his father b('c;n one of the hard\ .Scotchmen 
who immigrated to Hruce thirty \ears ago. "Roughing it in the bush" is delightiul 
tor a pic-nic or summer holiilay. but when it means unri'mitting toil tor a lifetime 
under the sternest comlilion of li\ing, it is not wontlerful everything that looks 
in the direction of labour-saving machinery should come; to be haileil as a bless- 
ing, or that factori('s should be regarded as the symbols of ci\ ili/ation. .Mr. 
Ruskin, if known at all to such a community, woidd be considered a lunatic. I'^sihetic 
deiiciencies notwithstanding, a finer yeomanry than the people of those North-western 
counties it would be difticult to find. Religious, industrious, and progressive, they \\i\\v. 
conquered the wilderness ; and thi; old men are willing to iK'gin pioneer work again 
for the .sake of their children. They bought their land for a nominal sum, and now 
that it is valuable they are putting it in the market, not from l<)\e of change, but 
because the proceeds will enable them to settle in the North-west, with half a dozen 
sons, on as many farms, in their own immediati- neighbourhood. .Such are the men 
who lay the; true foundations of the country. No more fertile and beautiful district 




tlian tliat rouiul Southampton and Port 1"-I<^in is to be found in Canaila ; and the same 
may be saiti of the country all alontr the Saujreen and its tributaries ; of I'aisley, beau 
tifully situated at the cuulUience of the Teeswater and the Saugeen ; of the villages of 
Chesley, Lucknow, Teesvva"' and indeed of almost every township in Bruce. That 
part of the county lying no.lh of a line drawn from the mouth of the Saugeen to the 










mouth of the Sydenham was long an Indian Reserve. The Indians gave up a "half- 
mile strip" from river to river, on condition of the Government building a road from one 
point to the other. But the road brought in immigrants; and in tS55, Lord Mury, 
the private secretary of the Governor-General, was .sent to the Chiefs to negotiate a 
treaty that would open, for a consideration, the Reserve for settlement. lie succeeded 
in obtaining their consent, though the principal Chief was reluctant to " move on " 
before the encroaching white man. Now, the names of townships, town-plot, roatl and 
almost everything in the peninsula suggest only his Lordship and the Keppel 
family instead of the old lords of the soil. Wiarton, the commercial capital of the 
district, needs only additional railroad facilities to become the centre of much wider 
interests. Among new towns it has an aspect of extreme newness ; but its site at 
the head of Colpoy's Bay is of such striking and uncommon beauty that it deserves 
a visit. Colpoy's Bay claims a place beside Sydney, Halifa.x, and Quebec as one of 
the finest harbours of Canada. The entrance is marked by the lofty Capes Croker 
and Commodore, and the islands which lie between the capes completely protect it 
from the swell of the Georgian Bay, and form a land-locked expanse of water nine 
miles long and from one to three miles wide. What a place for yachting, both in 
itself, and as a base of operations for exploring the shores and thousands of islands 
of the Georgian Bay ! Every one in Wiarton owns a boat and knows how to 
manage it. A visitor, horrified at seeing a Sunday-School pic-nic party going out 
in small sailing boats, was comforted on being told that the children were so accus- 
tomed to boating that they had become amphibious. 

A trip out into the open sea of Lake Huron, with one of the fishing-boats that 
start from Southampton, is something that transcends ordinary yachting. The wherries, 
which are of the finest build and sailing qualities, are owned and manned by hardy 
Scottish Highlanders. Each boat has its complement of four men, one at least of 
whom is sure to be a mine to those who are interested in character. Tlie owner of 
the wherry will probably have a rugged outside, but there are infinite founts of silent 
heroism within ; and some of these become vocal and distinctly articulate if you let 
him know that you love the West Highlands, or show that you sympathize with the 
backwoodsman's life ; or, better still, if you have a few words of Gaelic on hand. 
We owe much to Mr. Black for revealing "the Lews" to us; and .Sheila herself is 
not so interesting as her father and her faithful henchmen. The Princess is partly 
ideal ; the others are real. And such natures never forget the old land, though none 
are truer to the new. 

The sail itself is delightful. There is a joy in the cool fresh breath of the gray 
morning, and then in the sense of rapid motion through the blue sparkling waters in 
boats that you know can face any storm that may arise. The interest of the catch, 
the size and beauty of the silvery fish, and the novelty of the scene, all help to make 



tin: expedition delijjlitfiil ; and when the fishermen are ready for the run home, in- 
stinct with the comfortabh; feehnjj that they have not laboured in vain and that they 
may take a sleep or a smoke, you are ready to accept their hospitable offer to 
accompany them another day. 

From Southampton we cross country by staj^^e to the county town of Grey, 
unless we prefer to sail from VViarton, or make a lon^ backward detour by rail till we 
come upon the Toronto, (irey ^ Bruce line. The approach to Owen Sound, the 
county town, is pictures(|ue and rather strikinjr, by steamboat, stage-coach, or even by 
rail. The great Niagara escarpment runs through the county, becoming "the Hlue 
Mountains" of Northern Grey that extend to Cabot's Head. Much of the topography 
is therefore rough and broken compared with the districts to the west which we have 
hitherto been describing ; so much so that at parts it is called mountainous. The 
rather ambitious adjective may be allowed, as long as \\'<: are in Ontario, on the 
principle that among the blind the one-eyed man is king. In order to escape the 
great limestone rocks that environ the town, the railroad begins a circuitous route 
about three miles from where the engine whistle signals the approach to its northern 
terminus, and thus— to the disturbance of our topographical ideas — we enter Owen 
Sound from the north instead of from the south. Coming by steamer from Wiarton, 
or in the opposite direction from Collingwood, we sail up the beautiful bay that has 
given its name to the town, and forms here an excellent harbour. On the one side 
is the old Indian village of Brooke, the spire of what was once the Indian Church 
tile conspicuous object. On the other. Limestone Cliff stands out now high in air, 
though in former ages the waves of a mightier lake than Huron antl the (Georgian 
Bay combined dashed against its front. On both sides, along the coast as far as 
tile eye can reach, the land shows a series of well-defined terraces or ancient beaches 
rising up to the perpendicular cliffs of Niagara limestone. In many places these cliffs 
are split into great sections, the rents of which have been widened by weathering into 
immature cartons, which on their exposed surfaces must I)e dangerous traps to the 
traveller. Such rent cliffs are fine instances of the destructive effects of atmos- 
pheric erosion, and of the way by which in the course of ages the Sound itself 
has been formed. The rock being highly absorbent of moisture, the autumn 
rains lodge in its crevices and joints ; and in winter the crystalline expansion 
of freezing rends it into fragments. In spring, a mass of fallen ddbrh enlarges 
the talus at the base of the cliff. If the waters of the Sound stood as high 
as they once did, their waves would grind these angular blocks inco boulders, 
gravel and sand, and transport them into deep water. The enterprise of man is now 
doing what these natural forces no lo.ger do, by burning the broken fragments into 
quicklime, and quarrying large blocks for the erection of factories and dwellings. Ice- 
lloes have also done their work here as on the outer shores of the Lake, by trans- 



porting; immense quantities of j,Mieissic and j,'ranite hoiililcrs and |)el)l)les from the 
Laiirentian rocks in tlu: iiortii to tlu; sliores of the Sound. A drive from tin; town 
to tlie little villajfe of Mrooke will show these in l(;ns of thousands. As our steamer 
draws nearer to the iuiad of tin; bay, j^reat white rocks come into view. Then the 
rocks on lioth siiles converge, and in the valley i)elween, on an e.xtended flood plain, 
formed by the hay and the river Sydenham, the pretty little town is situated. It was 
originally called Sydenham, and its founder believed that it would tlevelop into the 
great entrepot of western commerce, would become in fact a .secont.1 Chicago. What 
a number of second Chicagos there have been in the visions of planners of town-plots 
and real-estate auctioneers! Indeed, so convinced were the people in 1850 that rail- 
ways — if built at all — would have to come to them as the only practicable northern 
terminus, that they refused to grant assistance to one or the other of two companies 
that ])roposed to build from Toronto to the (Georgian Hay. Consequently, the Northern 
Railway Company matle Collingwood its terminus, and the other Company, then collapsing, 
.Sydenham was left out in the colil with all its ambitions tlashetl to the grouiul. In 
1S56, it was incorporated as a town, umler the name of Owen Sound, and its |)rogress 
has been so continuous that it is now in the front rank of our provincial towns. We 
get a good binl's-eye view of it from the rugged limestone cliff on the west. The 
cliff is broken and rent, with di'hris of fallen rocks at its feet, the white escarpment 
continued beyond ; then, the lofty spire of a church, with a continuation to the south 
of ribbon-like terraces, the lower covered with trees. In the hollow is the town, with 
its church-s[)ires and public buildings, the most conspicuous of which is the High 
School, the busy harbour, and the (piiet waters of the Sound. The medallion shows a 
bit of the river as it enters the town, houses on the left bank, ami the Campanile 
of the I'ire-Kngine Station. "Off Cape Rich" tells its own tale, and one by no 
means infrequent on the lakes, a [)roi)eller encountering a stiff breeze as she rounds 
the cape into the Sound. 

The next illustration is taken from the rear of th(; ship-building yard, where ships 
and propellers of large tonnage are built. A propeller is on the stocks ; another, fully 
equii)ped, is drawing a stately ship from the harbour to the Sound. Ueyond, on either 
side, is a glimpse of the lower part of the town and harbour, with elevator, shipping, 
and then the high cliffs in the distance. No town is better supplied with summer 
travelling facilities by steamboats than Owen Sound. An e.xcellent line now runs to 
the Lake Superior ports in connection with the Toronto, Grey & Bruce Railway, 
and the boats from Collingwood make regular calls. The citizens are manifesting a 
great deal of enterprise in this direction, and many of the staunchest steamers on the 
lakes are built by the Owen .Sound Ury-Uock Company, in their ship-yards near the 
mouth of the Pottawatomie River. 

For many years Owen Sound laboured under the disadvantage of want of railway 




~r»i. . <%)■ \ ■ 

facilities, that were (nirly given to its 
rival, CoUingwooil, though, in \^4-„ it 
snatched from Durham the laurel-leaf of 

the county town. It lias also the drawback of having a \ery shallow harbour, which 
necessitates constant and expensive dredging. The town has a more than fine disj)lay 
of public buildings, perhaps the most creilitable of which is the new High School, 
erected at a cost, including grounds and ecpiipment, of over twenty-five thousand 
dollars. There are also two other commodious and handsome buildings for Public 
School requirement. The town-hall, court-house, and many of the stores and private 
residences have a tasteful and pleasing ap])earance. Characteristic of the place, its 
journalism, represented by the V/v/fs, Ath'ttliscr, and 'J'n7>uin\ is sturily and progres- 
sive. In the pre-railwa\' da\s, its hotels and stage-coach lines did a flourishing busi- 
ness ; and though the glory of " Coulson's " has somewhat departed, botli that hostelry 
and the "Queen's" satisfactorily meet all demands upon them. 

If we visit Owen Sound by driving from Southampton, we see something of the 
character of the intervening country. The land gradually rises, frequent outcrops of 
limestone occurring, and about midway across attains its greatest altitude, the streams 
on the one side flowing to the east, and on the other to the west. In summer the 
fields are luxuriant with good crops, and the farms have an aspect of thrift and 
prosperity. The forests assume a slightly northern aspect, and delight the botanist 
with their rich undergrowth of mosses, ferns, and flowering shrubs, amid fine specimen? 



of maple, IxH.-ch, ami asii. Tlic road for a pari of the way skirls llu; I'ottawatomit;, a 
small brawlin^f stream llial tumbles over Jones' and Indian l'"alls, a sheer tlescent of 
seventy feel, into dark ravines ilensely clolluil uitli timher, before it tmiplies into the 
Sonnd. ( )n desceiulin;^ from llu; liei;;hts, liie Sonnd is seen in llie distance, r.'Xtendinj^ 
for miles away out 'o the lieorj^ian Ma\-, and, as it approache •> the harhonr, ^'raihially 
narrowinjf like a weilj^e. 

A visit to Owen Soinul wonld not he satisfactory withont a <lriv(; to the Inj^lis 
I*"alls, alon^^ the heaulifid road that skirts the steep l)anks of the Sydenham. The way 
loads from tiu! |)rini:ip;d Imsiness street to live Cemetery Hill, to the left of which is 
the excceilin^dy lovely valley. \\\' pass i in; nx k which, I loreh-like, <,nv(.'s forth the 
water that supplies the '.own. We may explain, underlying llie Xiatjara limestones, 
a peculiarl\- stratified clay is found, which extends o\'er tlu- wiiole lluron rejrion, called 
l)y ^eolo^ists, Mrie clay. The Ujjper di\ision of this deposit is well expos(;il on the 
Sau^^een River, and is hence called Sauj^'een clay, the hanks in many places showing- 
it for a de|)tli of lw(.'nty or thirty feet. It is a brown calcareous clay, mixeil with sand 
and ijjravel, and is ex- 
poseil on the east side 

of the Sound, where it ,.^^ 

is hijjjhly fcMTUj^inous. 
The Hrie 'ly i)roi)er, 
or lower d. ion, is ;■ 
blue marl containinj^ 
thirty [jer cent, of car- 
bonate of lime. It is 
found about twenty feet 
under the surface de- 
posit in Owen .Sound, 
anil is seen in some 
places where the base 
of the limestone is ex- 
posed. With a lloor 
such as this, impervious 
to water, it is not won- 
derful that the limestone 
cliffs abound with ever- 
tlowing springs of clear 
water. Passing the rock, 

the road leads through a farm of exceptional excellence, especially in so rough a 
district, and a little farther on we find ourselves "among the mountains near Owen 


:.-!! *' 




Soiiiul." The view is well worth ;i Ioniser (h^ivc;, ;inci Lonl Duffc^rin exaj^sreratetl 
no more tiian was his wont ovim' Canadian scenes wlien he cU^clared it one of tiie 
most ma_i,miticent lie had ever witnessed. Mere ami there tiie road runs so near 
tile ])erpendicular rocl<s tliat we may toucli them froi,; our carriage. Cool, clear 
streams issue from the solid rock, trickle across tlie roatl, ami leap joyfully down 
the steep descent into the dell beneath to join the .Sydenham. Charming gHmpses 
of the river are obtained tiirough the trees from iIk; main pathway. A little farther 
on and we hear — especially shouUt it he spring or autumn — a souml combined of 
hissing, seething and roaring, that an ounces the I'^ills, and promises something worth 
seeing. The illustration jiresents them from the bc^st point of view — the deep ravine 
among tlie \ines some sixty feet below. The wati^r escapes from between iw.^ mills, 
an old and a new, and tumbles over th" sharp, shelving rocks in a mass of foam ami 
sjiray, ami then, with the ceasi'less noise of many wattM's, gurgles ovcm- a series of 
rapiiis to the (]uiet re.iches farther tlown. On each sidt- the; high banks are clothed 
with the rich \-erdnre of lichens, mosses, ferns, creepers, and \ines. The whole scene 
is \ery beautiful, and the courti'ous pi^opretor — one of the original settlers — is always 
willing to guiile visitors to the points from which the l'"alls may l)e seen to the best 
advantag(;. It is worth while, too, to return to tlu; town I)y tlu; way wt' came. The 
rocky gorge, the glimpses of the \\\v\\ the trees on its banks, and the great rocks 
towering boldly u[) by the way, give interest to the roatl till the Cemetery Hill is 
reached. There, tlu' pretty town in the valley, \.\\v. streets reaching up the hill-sides, 
the bay dottc^il with stt'amers and little (pleasure boats, the great expanse of water to 
the north, the Indian IVMiinsuIa and the opposite shore, combine- to make up one 
of the most extc'iuleil and \aried panoramas in the I'-'oxince. Such hills ami dales and 
waters had irresistible attractions for the Scotchmen, who were among the first settlers 
in the count)', thougli to their children, who know that a "bush farm" means imre- 
mitting toil for a lifetime, the (pen, exposed [)rairie far transcends in attractiveness 
all the gli)ries of mountain .and forest. 

.As ri'gards fruit-growing, the neighbourhood of Owen Sound is no exception 
to the rest of the s|ilendi(l Lake Iluron territory which \\v. ha\c i)een tlescribing. 
Almost ever\- kitid of fruit succeeds well, and ap|)les, pears, plums, and strawberries 
may be said to attain perfection. .\ reliable witness stated before the Ontario Agri- 
cultural Commission tiiat so much attention is now being gixcn to this fruit cro|) that, 
esides the supply of the home market, from three to four thousand barrels of winter 
apples had l)een shipped from Owen .Souml alone in iS.Si, antl that culture— 
which is beginning to attract more attention could be carried on (p.iite as profitably. 
The plums of the district are so remarkably fine that tliousands of trees are being 
planted, and tens of thousands of bushels are already shipped annually, chiefly for 
the Chicago market. 




To a ofrcat extent, It would he (>-iIy telling,'- the same storv over aiL^aiii were we to 
(l(!scril)e tile other towns in (irt.'v. At the o|)|)osite extreniilv of th<' coimlx' from 
Owen SouikI is Mount I'ore-U. |ileasantly situated on the most soulherK hraneh of 
the Sauj^cen. The first surveyor mistook the stream for a hraneh of the Maitland, 
and the place aeeordin^ly was llrst ealleil "Maitland lliils" or "Maitland Wooils." 
W hen the real stale ol tin: lase was known, tlie present name was hirmed hy kei'pinjj; 
what was true and droppin-.^ what was inaecurate in hoth of the old names. A walk 
or short driv(> l)y sta!.,^' from Owen .Sound takes us to .Meaford, also on the hay. 
I he drive, some ei;^hteen miles in leni;th, is a sinujul.irK' pietures<jue one. The roail 
runs throuL;h tiie townships of .Syilcnham and .St. \ incent, whith project far lakeward. 
and divide Nottawasaga Hay from the waters of the Sound. On the nnite the tourist 
will he struck with the wantonness in which Nature revels. Stupendous uprijrht masses 
of rock poise themselves in dizzy proximity to the roadway, while innumerable paths 



wander off on both skies into cool depths of forest or jrloomy clefts, fringed with ever 
fresh adornings. Both townships were surveyed in 1853, and the first settler in St. 

Vincent was the surveyor, Mr. Charles Rankin, to 
whom and to Mr. George Jackson, the locality is in- 
debted for important services. For many years it 
was hotly contested by the people where the site of 
Meaford should be. Finally the dispute settled itself, 
and the embryo village has now become a fair-sized 
town. It is prettily situated on the IJig Head River, 
with a gentle slope towards the shores of the bay, 
where a harbour is formed by the united waters of 
the bay and river, flanked by a far projecting wharf. 
Commerce is represented by a number of grist, saw, 
and woollen mills, a foundry and machine shop. 

But, let it never be forgotten that all that is dis- 
tinctive and noteworthy in Grey, as in most of the 
counties of Canada, is to be found not in its towns, 
not at railway stations, but in the townships, along 
the gravel roads and the concession lines. There 
we meet the men and women who endured the 
rough welcome of the Genius of the wilderness ; 
the men and women to v/hom we owe the smiling 
fields and orchards, and all the promise of the 
future. A good objective point for an expe- 
dition into the interior of the country is 
that most picturesque cataract known as the 
" luigenia Falls," and thence up the Beaver 
River, a valley that is said Lo possess the 
finest climate, and to be without exception 
the finest peach-growing district in Canada. 
Our illustration of the " Eugenia I'"alls," in 
the neighbourhood of Flesherton, gives their 
characteristic features faithfully, and it is un- 
necessary to repeat in words what the pencil 
present* so truthfully. 

Grey was fortunate in its first settlers. 

Two of the townships first surveyed were 

set apart to be divided up into grants to 

WOOD VIOLETS, AND FRINGED GENTIAN. retired British officers, and to the children 



of United Empire Loyalists who had not been supplied with lands previously. Both 
classes were extremly desirable immigrants ; the first bringing with them money, 
intelligence and refinement, and the second having what was of even more immediate 
value, knowledge of colonial life, especially of life in the bush. But the great 
body of the immigrants were of the rank and file of the British Islands; and they 
brought little with them but hearts of oak. Those who had come to Canada because 
the siren voice of emigration agents had assured them that " the same tree yielded 
sugar, soap, and firewood," and that all the work they required to do was but " the 
pastime of a drowsy summer day," were speedily undeceive.!. Even those who had 
landed with money in their purse had a hard time of it, fighting lonely battles against 
a thousand unforeseen difficulties, surrounded by the most uncongenial environment. How 
those who had struggled 
to their destination on 
scanty funds lived for 
the first years, it is dif- 
ficult to understand. 
They made no com- 
plaint, held out no hat 
for alms, but planted 
their potatoes among 
the stumps in summer, 
cleared off the deep 
snow, and gathered cow- 
cabbage for their food 
in winter, when they 
had nothing better in 
the house, and in the 
darkest da)s trusted 
that the God of their 
fathers would not desert 
them. The poet or his- 
torian of this "primeval 
and barbaric but hemic 
era" has not yet ap- 
peared. One American 

has written the history of Canada in the Seventeenth Century. Must we wait till 
another comes into our backwoods and writes for us the true story of our Nineteenth 
Century ? The actors are passing off the stage, and their memories are already fading 
from the minds of men. Pity that it should be so before their records are gathered 


■^. ~ 




together; for their achievements, rather than the campaitjn of 1812-15, or skirmishes 
with "Sympathizers" or I-"enians, are the foundation of our country. What are the 
discomforts of the camp for a year or two, compared to life-battles, that the wives and 
children had to share, with njloomy forest and dismal swamp, with tropical heat at one 
season, and at another witli cold that would freeze the bread and the potatoes beside 
the very fire-side? In one sense, iinmiijrants of the !■ r class suffered most keenly. 
Their tastes were their torments. .\t first they strui^gled hard to keep some of the 
old forms and courtesies of life ; but soon the stru<rgle for the bare necessaries 
absorbed all their strenjj^th. Some of the others indeed suffered all that poor human 
nature could suffer. They starved, and that was the end of it. 

This jreneratiori ne'er can know 
The tuils we li.acl lo undergo, 
While laying the great forests low. 

So sings, with direct ami pathetic simplicity of style, that true Canadian poet, 
Alexander McLachlan, speaking what he knows, and testifying of what he has seen. The 
poet's eye discerns the hero. " Canada," he says, " is prolific in heroes of its own ; 
men who venture into the wilderness, perhaps, with little save an axe and a determined 
will, and hew their way to independence. Almost every locality can point to some 
hero of this kind, who overcame difficulties and dangers with a determination whicii. 
in a wider sphere, would have commanded the admiration of tiie world. Energetic, 
inventive, sleepless souls, who fought with wikl nature, cleared seed-fields in liit' 
forest, built mills, schools and churches where, but a few years before, r.aught was 
heard save the howl of the wolf ami the whoop of the Indian. Who gathered, per- 
haps, a little community of hardy pioneers around them, and to which they were 
carpenter, blacksmith, and architect, miller, doctor, lawyer and judge, all in one." 
Such a man he describes with enthusiasm as " a backwood's hero." 

" He chopped, he h)gjje(l, he cleared his lot, 
And inli) many a (hsnial s|)0t 
He let the light of day ; 
And through the long and dismal swamp, 
So dark, so dreary and so damp, 
He made a turnpike way. 
The church, the schoolhouse and the mill. 
The store, the forge, the vat, the kiln, 
Were triumphs of his hand ; 
And many a lovely spot of green. 
Which peeps out there the woods between. 
Came forth at his command. 


What was it that he would not lace ? 

He l)ricl({eil the stream, lie cm ihi; race, 

Led water to the mill : 

And planned and phitted niglil and day, 

Till every obstacle j;ave way 

To his uncon(|iiered will. 

And he was always at our call. 

Was doctor, lawyer, judge and all ; 

And all tlirouijhoul the Seilion, 

O, there was nothing could be done — 

No field Ironi out the forest won, 

Save under his direction." 


Wherever there are men of a ^ood stock there are sure to be leaders of men. And 
the backwoods life was not one of hardships unredeemed by visions of beauty or in- 
tervals of rest or fun. Each season brouo;ht its own tpiota of pleasure. To the 
logging " bee " the neighbours came from far and near, every man of them as in- 
dependent as a king on his throne, for he owned his own acres, ami had chopped 
his own homestead ; and after the hard day's work and contests, songs and dances 
followed till the rude rafters rang again. The girls gathered the spring buds from 
the trees and the sweet violets from the grassy dells, and twined their hair with 
woodbine; but they milked tiie cows and cooked and washed, anil worked in the 
fields at haying and harvest, and hitched the horses, and rode them, too, when 
occasion required, none the less. And the young men not only chopped and 
ploughed, but had fights with bears and wolves, or planned new kinds of water-wheels 
and rude gun-stocks and fiddles, and everything else that they or the women needed. 
Autumn showered its gold and purple over the woods, and the backwoodsmen reaped 
from a virgin soil more generous fare by far than the bleak moors of the western 
Highlands had ever yielded. In winter, by the light of the great back-logs roaring up 
the wide chimney, the lads and lasses did their courting. And though it took ten 
days to drive the o.x-team si.xty miles to Barrie for a barrel of salt, or still longer 
to take the grist to Toronto, what rare budgets of news were carried back from the 
outside world ! Each year brought new improvements, and things looked brighter. 
The shanty and the log-byre gave way to the framed house well painted outside and 
well plastered within, with big barns hard by ; the almost furniture-less cabin to com- 
fortable rooms supplied with a sewing-machine and melodeon ; or, perhaps, a piano, 
and a volume of Picturk.S(,)UK Canada ; the o.xen to a team of Clydesdales and a fast 
trotter ; and the homespun to broad-cloth. And then, gazing around on the changed 
scene, the old man and the old woman would declare that their happiest days had 
been spent in the log cabin, whose walls are inotildering not far from the new house 



to which their son has brought his bride. All honour to the pioneers ! 
children never forget their memories, nor cease to imitate their virtues ! 

May their 

"Lookup; their walls enclose us. Look nrounJ ; 

Who won the verdant meadows from the sea ? 
Whose sturdy hands the noble highways wound 

Through forests dense, o'er mountain, moor, and lea ? 
Who spanned the streams ? Tell me whose works they he,- 

The busy marts, where commerce ebbs and Hows ? 
Who quelled the savage ? And who spared the tree 

That pleasant shelter o'er the pathway throws ? 
Who made the land they loved to blossom as the rose ?" 




'TpHE tendency of commerce to seek the water, and the natural inclination of the 
settler to found a hoiiie in some favoured spot on the wooded shores of a lake, have 
been important factors in the gradual, though as yet sparso, settlement of the Georgian 
Bay. The names of the lakes and the bays, the streams and the villages of this 
region speak of a like craving on the part of the redman for the eye-satisfying 
qualities and, to him, modest utilities of both still and running water. In Nottawa- 
saga, Couchiching, Muskoka, Penetanguishene, and many other Indian appellatives, as 
well as in the presence here and there of lingering remnants of the great Huron 
nation by which the region was once peopled, we have abundant evidence of the 
attractiveness of this section of Ont;)rio for the simple children of the forest and the 
stream. Comparatively recent as has been the white settlement of the district, the 
area bounded on the north by the River Severn, and on the south by the Nottawasaga 
River, was once populous with the lodges of the Huron tribe, and their villages and 
iiunting-grounds, in a fateful era, were the theatre of events of thrilling interest in the 
annals of Canada. 

The story takes us back to the period covered by the first sixty years of the 

Seventeenth Century, when the r<"rench, English, and Dutch were severally endeavouring 

to make good their foothold on the continent. Early in the century the English led 

off in the colonization of Virginia ; the Dutch established their posts at Manhattan 




and at Oranjjc (Albany), on tlu; Huilsoii ; wliili? a little later the Piljjrim Fathers laid 
the foundations of Massachusetts. It was a period of unrest in the Old World, and 
its ailventurous spirits caiij^dit tiie contajjion of foundinjf colonies in the New, ami of 
carryin}^ the llajf of commerce or the standard of the Church into the western 

Karlier by fifty years, Havre had seen Hucfuenot fujjitivcs from reli^nous despotism 
go forth to plant in Florida a Lutheran I'rance, alas ! only to meet extermination at 
the hand of Spanish intolerance and lust of blood. Contemporary with Champlain, 
and aided by his efforts, the Sieur tie Monts, another Calvinist, essayeil to found a 
home on the inhospitable banks of the .Ste. Croix, or round the beautiful harbour of 
Annapolis. But this effort at Acadian settlement, though it had the assistance of 
Poutrincourt and the historian Lescarbot, met with failure, and the hopes of the colony 
were for the time buried in the ashes of Port Royal. 

Champlain himself, however, was to accomplish great things in the New World ; 
and for nearly thirty years his were the efforts, and his the zeal, that were instrumen- 
tal, in the stern devotion of the times, in winning souls for heaven and a colony for 

At the solicitation of the Hurons, who were anxious to secure Champlain's 
co-operatior in an attack upon their inveterate enemies, the Iroquois, he had set 
out on an expedition to the Huron country, desiring at the same time to extend his 
explorations and, through the agency of the Franciscan Friars, two of whom accom- 
panied him, to carry more efficiently into the wilderness the story of the Cross. Hence, 
in 1613, we fmd him undergoing a toilsome journey up the Ottawa, across Lake 
Nipissing, and down the French River, till he came upon the great expanse of the 
inner sea of Lake Huron — la Mir Donee, Champlain called it — thence, coasting south 
on its eastern shore till he reached the irregular indentation of Matchedash Bay. 
Here, in the peninsula formed by Nottawasaga and Matchedash Hays, and skirted on 
the south by Lakes Simcoe and Couchiching, was the home of the Wyandots, 

Though comparatively small, the Huron country, at the time we speak of, had a 
population variously estimated at from twenty to thirty thousand souls. Indian towns 
were scattered all over the district, to the chief of which, after disembarking near the 
site of the present village of Penetanguishene, Champlain was, with every demonstra- 
tion of delight, conducted. At the Huron metropolis of Cahiaque, not far from where 
Orillia now stands, Champlain met the chiefs of the Huron Nation, and rejoined 
Father Le Caron, who had preceded him, and who had already made progress in 
bringing many of his dusky brethren within the pale of the Church. 

Now was planned that ill-starred expedition from the peaceful shores of Lake 
Simcoe that was designed to humble the Iroquois, and redden the lakes and streams 
of Central New York with Seneca blood. But though the spirits of the Huron braves 



rose with the war-dance and the feast, ami thou^^di Champlaiii was himself to K;a(l 
them, the result of the foray was (iiscomfitiire. The expedition was ahsent from tin; 
Sth of Septeml)(!r to the; close; of tiie year (i()i5), loilinj^ its weary wa_\' hy Malsam 
Lake, the Trent Riv(;r, and the- Hay of (jiiiiUe, thence across Lake Ontario to tlu; 
lair of the Iroc|uois. IIitc it cinu! upon the forlilied encampment nf one; of the 
trihes of the Confederacy, ajjainst which it failed to make any impression ; ;ind tht; 
expedition returned in sullen mood, jeavint,' a heavy reckoning behind it, to li<; st^ttled 
some future day witit Irocpiois intt;rest. 

Champlain, who had been wounded in the conflict, n-turned with his Indian allies 
and his small French continj^ent to the home of the Hurons. After visiting some of 
the towns of the Tobacco Nation Lulians, and exchanging with his hosts " jjhidges of 
perpetual amity," he set out early in the spring over the circuitous way by wiiich he 
had come, to resume his duties and prosecute his arduous mission, in the half nioncis- 
tic, half military, environment of tlie high-perched capital. 

For nineteen years farther, with occassional intermissions, Champlain was yet to 
guide the destinies of tiie country, and to battle with all tiie powers of evil in his 
consecrated dual work of champion of the l-'aith ;ind (iovernor of N'ew i'rance. It 
was well that the grave closed upon him ere his great heart knew of tnt; doom that 
was to fall upon the nation among whom he had sojourned, of tin: martyrdom in 
store for the lion-hearted priests of the Cluirch, and of tiie dire consequences of his 
raid in concert with the enemies of the Irocpiois. The bandeil nations of that confed- 
eracy were invariably the "upper dog" in the brute light with the Wyandot or the 
Algonquin. With or without pretext, they were always to be found lurking in the 
vicinity of the Huron loilges, and woe to anything human that became their pre)' ! 

We have seen established the 1 1 uron outpost of the Church, and the self-sacrificing 
zeal of Le Caron, who, with Champlain, had fountled it. The mission, during the 
years 1626-9, had had the benelit of tlu; tlevoted labours of iiim who became known 
as "the apostle of the Hurons" — the great-souled and giant-statured Jean de 
Br^beuf. At th(; tiuK; of tiie first conejuest of Ouebec, Hrebeuf was recalleil, though 
five years afterwards he returned to his charge, accompanied l)y Peres Daniel and 
Davost — all of whom, ere long, were to win the martyr's cro\. n. Subsequently, the 
mission was strengthened by the urrival of Jogues, Lalemant, OarnicT, and other Fathers. 

It may safely be said that the records, secular or ecclesiastical, of no country 
furnish more soul-stirring accounts, than do the Relations dcs Jesuits, of self-sacrificing 
devotion to faith and duty. The constancy of the apostleship of the followers alike of 
St. Francis of Assist and of Ignatius Loyola, not alone in the hour of mortal peril, 
l)ut through weary years of toil, discomfort, and discouragement, may well extort our 
reverential homage. The story is full of terrible episodes, intermingled with a narra- 
tive, in its humble trust and sinplicity, almost divine. 



It was in 1634 Hn'lx'uf n-turiicil to tin: scene of his apostlc'slii|), accompanied 
by I'atiiers Daniel and Davost, wlio inadt? tlieir way over the nini' lunulrL'd miles, with 
thirty-live porta.ijc's, that separattrd the lonely mission from the succour and sympathy of 
the briithreii at (hiehec. laienne Hrule, Champlain's adventurous interpreter, having,' 
been munlered by the Indians in Mrcbeuf's abscjnci', and tiie old mission of 'i'oanthe 
havini; in conseipience been deserleil, the i'allurs now souj,du the new Huron town ol 
Ihonatiria. just back of the north-west basin of I'enetan^uislu'ne May, and there estab- 
lish(ul the mission of St. Joseph, Here the priests laboured incessantK', l)iil with 
indifferent success, until they could actpiire the lluron toni,Mie. I'',ven when that had 
been accomplished, tiie prospects of liu,' mission were still doubtful, for the white 
men, Ljarbeil in black, who had come ainonn them, and who at lirst had Ix'cn received 
with minified .iwe and curiosity, were now accused of sorcery- ami of incaiit.itions 
that showed their bl.ick work, it was said, in the pestilence that hail broken out amnm; 
the Ilurons, 

in their ilistress and disappointment, if thi; Fathers could not work miracles, they 
could at least pray, labouriously maintain the offices of the Church, and by the example 
of their saintly lives manifest the siiirit of their religion and the ardour of their faith. 
So the weary years went on, amid outbreaks of pestilence and famine, alternatinj,' with 
forays into the Irocpiois coujitry, the torturinjj of cajitives, and even the cannibalism 
which they sometimes compelled the dismayed priests to witness. With much thai is 
traditionally noble aliout them, th(! aborigines of AuH'rica were a lilthy, brutali/eil, ami 
malignant race. \'et tlu' following war-song, cpioted by tiarneau, in his chapter on 
" The Aboriginal Nations of Canada," is enough to give them a rank abo\-e that of 
the mer(? savage:— "() places which the sun Hoods with his light, aud the moon illumi- 
nates with her paly torch ; places where verdure waves in the breeze, where runs the 
limpid stream and the torrent leaps; take witness, () earth, and \e heavens, that wi' 
are ready everyone to encounter our foes. * * * '['he war-clubs we snatch from 
enemies shall testify to our surpassing valour. The scalps we tear from their prostrate 
heads will ornament our huts. Our door-lintels we shall redden "ith the blooil of oiu" 

i; them to perish by 
shall burn them up 

prisoners. Timid in captivity, as feeble in combat, ' H 

slow torturings ; and when life has lied the' "ftit'' .> 

and scatter their ashes to the four winds o iven. 

The invocation might be breathed by thi uispired ui heaven ; the rest could (jnly 
coriie from the mouth of devils, 

The Jesuit b'athers, surrounded by peril on all sides, now determin ' as far as 
possible, to concentrate their force in one central station, " to serve as . toil, maga- 
zine, hospital, and convent," and be a safe base of operations for othe .ions of the 
peninsula. The site of the new station (Sainte Marie) was on the bordei what is now 
known as Mud Lake, an expansion of the little River Wye, and aboui ■ mile from 





where it enters Gloucester Hay, an inlet of Matcheilash. Here, for ten years, the 
Church liad its stront^hokl, some trace of which, after the lapse of two hundred and 
fifty years, is yet visible. It had, moreover, been strengthened by soldiers, occasionally 
despatched from Quebec as an escort to the Fathers, and for a defence of the mission 






when in jeopardy. Of the interior life of the mission, and the pious men who con- 
ducted it, I'aricman has given us a graph" sketch: — 

" It was a scene that iniglit recall a remote, half feudal, half partriarchal age, 
when, under the smoky rafters of his anticjue hall, some warlike thane sat, with kins- 
men and dependants ranged down the long board, each in his degree. Here, doubtless, 
Ragueneau, the I'ather Superior, held the place of honour; and, for chieftains scarred 
with Danish battle-axes, was seen a band of thoughtful men, clad in a threadbare garb 
of black, their brows swarthy from exposure, yet marked with the lines of intellect 
ami a fixed enthusiasm of purpose. Here was Hressani, scarred with firebrand and 
knife; Chabonel, once a professor of rhetoric in France, now a missionary, bound by 
a self-imposed vow to a life from which his nature recoiled ; the fanatical Chaumonot, 
whose character savoured of his peasant birth, — for the grossest fungus of superstition 
that ever grew under the shadow of Rome was not too much for his omnivorous 
credulity, and miracles and mysteries were his daily food ; yet, such as his faith was, 
he was ready to die for it. Ciarnier, beardless like a woman, was of a far finer nature. 
His religion was of the affections and the sentiments ; ami his imagination, warmed with 
the ardour of his faith, sha])eil the ideal forms of his worship into visible realities, 
Brebeuf sat conspicuous among his brethren, portly and tall, his short moustache and 
beard grizzled with time, — for he was fifty-six years olil. If he seemed impassive, it 
was because one overmastering principle had merged and absorbed all the impulses of 
his nature and all the faculties of his mind. The enthusiasm which with many is fitful 
and spasmodic was with him the current of his life, — solemn and deep as the tide of 
destiny. The Divin(! Trinity, the X'irgin, the Saints, Heaven and Hell, Angels and 
Fiends, —to him, these alone were real, and ail things else were nought. Gabriel 
Lalemant, nephew of Jerome Lalemant, Superior of Quebec, was Hrebeuf's colleague 
at the mission of St. Ignace. His slender frame and delicate features gave him an 
appearance of youth, though he had reached middle life ; and, a*^ in the case of 
Gamier, the fervour of his miinl sustained him through exertions of which he seemed 
physically incapable. Of the rest of that company, little has come down to us but the 
bare record of their missionary toils ; aiul we may ask in vain what youthful enthus- 
iasm, what broken hope or faded ilream, turned the current of their lives, and sent 
them from the heart of civilization to this savage outpost of the world." 

But we approach the period when desolation was to sweep over these Wilderness 
Missions. On the 4th of July, 1648, the storm burst on the frontier town of St. 
Joseph ( Teanaustaye), five leagues distant from Sainte Marie, and not far from the present 
site of Barrie. Mass had just been celebrated in the mission chapel by I'ere Daniel, 
and his devout llock still knelt at their devotior ;. Suddenly the cry -A " The 
Iroquois!" was shouted by the lounge^rs on the palisades that surrounded the village, 
and fro^e on the lips of the women as they leapt from their knees in the sanctup y. 



Most of the Huron warriors were absent at the chase, or off on a trading expedition 
to the Frencli settlements. The wolfisii dogs that hiy asleep round the lodges crept in 
fear to a hiding-])lace. Succour there was none. The palisade was quickly forced. 
"Brothers," cried I'"ather Daniel, "to-day we shall be in heaven!" Immersing his 
handkerchief in a bowl of water, he shook it over his panic-stricken congregation, and 
baptized them in the name of the Triune. His own hour had come! Wrapping his 
vestments about him, he strode to the door of tiu- church, where a shower of arrows 
perforated his robes and a musket ball tore the way to his heart. Gashed and hacked 
by Iroquois tomahawks, his body was Hung into the church, and the latter set fire to. 
The village itself was soon a heap of ashes ; and of its two tiiousand inhabitants all 
were slain save one or two fugitives. Of the tiiree other principal Missions, Sainte 
Marie, the most inland from the southern borders of the Huron territory, was the onl\' 
one to esca|ii'. On the 15th of March, 1694, a thousand Iroquois crossed the frontier, 
and before daylight on the following morning had stealthily crept within the enclosures 
of St. Ignace. Its wretched inhabitants, some four hundred in number — chiellj' women, 
old men, and children — w(;re asleep and unsuspecting of danger. The onslaught was 
as swift as it was remorseless. A ft-w minutes fell play with the hatchet sufficeil to 
take tile place captive. Three onl\' escaped, but fortunately they were able to give 
the alarm at the ne.xt mission-post of St. Louis. Here were the Jesuit Fathers, 
Brebeuf and Lalemant. Before sunrise here, too, were the Iroquois. Ajiprised of 
their coming, many of the inhabitants made good their escape to .Sainte Marie, 
though some eighty warriors stood by the defences and thrice beat back their 
assailants. The llurons, brought to bay, fought with desperation; but tlieir invaders 
were ten times tiieir numl)er. Cnisliing down the palisades, the)- poured into the 
village, capturetl the ministering leathers and the surviving defenders, and gave the 
place to the llames. Brebeuf and Lalemant, stripped and bound, they carried off, with 
the unwouiuled of the Hurons, to St. Ignace, where, as Parkman tells us, "all turned 
out to wreak tiieir fury on the two priests, beating them savagely with sticks and clubs 
as they drove them into the town." 

For the two jjriests the (^mX now dnnv near. Brebeuf, bound to a stake, was 
scorched from heail to foot ; his lower lip was cut away, and a heated iron thrust down 
his throat. A collar of red-hot hatchets was ne-xt hung round his ne;ck ; and, in travesty 
of the rite of baptism, kettlesful of boiling water were poured over his head. Not flinch- 
ing under ... . torture, the Iroquois, enraged, cut strips of flesh from iiis limbs, scali)ed 
him, tore out his heart, devoured it, and drank his l)lf)od. Lalemant, physically unable 
to manifest the sann fortitude, iiad strips of i)ark, smeared with pitch, bound to his naked 
body and s(!t fire to. H.df roasted, he was flung into confuiement, tortured a whole 
night, and finally kiiletl with the hatchet of an Irtjcpiois who had grown weary of his 
protracted pastime. To the martyr missionaries, in such plight, was heaven opened. 



The other prisoners met a sjjeedier death. Hraliied with the hatchet, or bound to 
stakes beside the lodges, they perished in the llaines that wrapt the village. Some few 
escaped, init so mutilated or scarred by the fagot that they were unable to reach succour, 
and died in the wintry woods. The inmates of Sainte Marie were kept in agonies of 
suspense. Praying and keeping guard, they hoped that Iroquois thirst for blood would 
be slaked, and that they might not be included in the common ruin. Refugees from the 
other villages were ineanwhile massing round the fort, and, taking courage, they 
now became the attacking party. Two hundred Iroquois warriors presently advanced 
on Sainte Marie, and these the Hurons fell upon. The Iroquois were routed, and 
tied for shelter to St. Louis. Thither the Hurons pursued them, and they then 
made for St. Ignace. Here, stung by their losses, they threw themselves like fiends 
upon their assailants. The latter fought with fierce courage, and ere long the blood 
of a hunc led Irocjuois braves stained the snow. Victory fell, however, to the invaders, 
though at such cost as to incite them to withdraw from the territory. Before leaving, 
" they planted stakes in the bark houses of St. Ignace, and bound to them those 
of their prisoners whom they meant to sacrifice, male and female, from old age to 
infar^y, husbands, mothers, and children, side by side. Then, as they retreated, they 
set the town on fire, and laughed with savage glee at the shrieks of anguish that 
rose from the blazing dwellings." 

There is but one more chapter to recount in this Iliad of woe. What wonder, 
after the harrow had past over the homes and shrines of the tribe, that the few 
remaining lost heart and looked for refuge anywhere but in the places that once knew 
them ! Like the dispersed of Israel, they sat by the waters and wept. Nor could the 
bereft priests give them aught of cheer, for the iron, too, had entered into the soul of 
each remaining missioner. All, however, were of one mind, that in llight lay the com- 
mon safety. The first thought was to remove to the (irand Manitoulin ; but, with 
touching pathos, the Hurons begged tiiat they shoulil seek an island nearer tiie graves 
of their kindred. The resort finally was to Isle St. Josej))!, or, as it is now known, to 
Christian Island, off the north-west point of the Matchedash Peninsula. .Sainte Marie 
was dismantled and abandoned ; and on rafts all set out for their island refuge. 
Hither, from cape and islet, drew the fugitives ; and for their support the new mission 
was taxed to its utmost. Despair sat u])on each face, ilespondency was in every heart; 
but provision had to be made for the coming winter, and some little clearing was 
attempted and corn planted. The few, only, had strength to labour, and the harvest 
was scanty ; yet six or eight thousand had to be fed, and by spring the dole of the 
mission w.-is reduced to roots and acorns. With famine, in stalked the pestilence, and 
the little corn-clearing became a charnel pit. Hut death was not the only enemy to 
keep at bay; for round the ill-fated island hovered the Iroquois. During the winter 
there had been raids upon the asylums of the neighbouring Tobacco Nation Indians, 

i:ii :: 

M \ 


'•■', -i 



and there Fathers Gamier and Chabonel had met their doom. Of the cooped-up 
colony thousantls had died, and all liad L,dven up hope. Tiiose that had any life left 
must yet seek a more distant refuge. The treacherous ice was still in the channel, and 
bands essayed to cross to the mainland. Escaping one peril they fell into another. 
Those that reached the shore fell a prey to the Irocpiois. Only one was known 
to escape. 

In this deadly war of extermination how fared it with the missionaries? For a 
generation they hail been the witness(!s of an internecine strife almost without a paral- 
lel. They knew that the Huron bra\e was not without courage, i)ut they saw that in 
every contest he was overmatched by tiie panther-stealth and brute force of the 
Iroquois. Each year saw the Hurons decimated and the tribe remorselessly being 
wiped out. Th(; hope they had onci; cherished of establishing a permanent mission in 
the country hail long since been dashed to the ground. I'^ishers of the souls of men 
they, too, had become the hunted of beasts. 

Another week passed over, and more of the Hurons essayed to make the main- 
land, but met the same ilire fate. To stay on the island was to die of famine ; to go 
was to meet a worse death. A few stole off to become merged in neighbouring tribes ; 
some sought refuge among the Neutrals and Fries ; and the more shrewd threw in 
their lot with the far-ofT Andastes. There was yet a residue, and whither should they 
go ? Over-reached cunning was soon to throw Hgiit on the question and make escape 
possible. It occurred in this wise : — 

A Huron chief, with a few of the tril)e, one day fell into an ambuscade on the 
mainland. As they prejiared to defend themselves, the Iroquois called out that they 
were among friends, and that their nation wished to conciliate the remaining Hiu-ons 
on the island, and have them go back with the Iroquois to their country. The Huron 
chief, concealing his distrust, received the proffereil wampum, and accepted their com- 
mission to open negotiations for peace with his kinsmen. Accompanied by one or two 
of the Irocjuois, lie returned to Isle; .St. Joseph ami ostentatiously sp'-ead news of the 
armistice. A council of chiefs was instantly calletl, ami the Iroquois overtures were 
gravely discussed. The leading men of the Hiu^ons were secretly apprised that the 
Iroquois meai.' only to entrap them. Concealing their knowledge of this from the 
envoys, they gave assent to the projjosal that both tribes should bury the hatchet and 
smoke ihe pipe of peace. Before setting out for the Iroquois country they feigned the 
desire to confer \\X\\ more of the Iroquois Chiefs, and asked that a large delega- 
tion of them should cross to St. Joseph. Not dreaming that the Hurons had suspicion 
of their designs, they fell in with the proposal, and a considerable number joined the 
council. At a given signal the whole were slaughtered, and the Inxjuois on the main- 
land, quickly divining the situation, in a panic and tied. Now was the opportunity 
for the mission ! All instantly got ready, manned the canoes, bade farewell to the 




1K(iI.\N BAY. 

island, and paddlt'd off to the north. Keepintj toijethcr for safety, for days they 
threaded the isl.inds of the Cit^ori^Man Bay. and finally reached tlu' I'rench River. I'rom 
here they crossed Lake Nipissinji^, and in time arrived at tlu; Ottawa. DesciMidinq; this 
preat water-way to coini)arative civilization, they reached the junction of the Cirand 
River and the St, Lawrence, and rested for a while at \'ille Marie. As they came 
hither they met Bressani and a relievins^ expedition goini;.j up to strengthen the mis- 
sions. It was, however, too late ; and joining Ragueneau's party they returned to the 
settlements. At Montreal the Iroquois wolves were still on the trail for blood, and the 



Hiirons would not be 
assured of safety un- 
til they could see 
Quebec. Thither tiiey 
. all set out, and on 
the twenty-eighth of 
July, 1650, attained 
rest and succour at 
the capital. 

With the decima- 
tion of the Hurons 
and the abandonment 
of their country, the 
heroic story of the 
French Missions in 
this ]nirt of the wil- 
derness summarily 
closes. It is a storj- 
sublime in its record 
of suffering, peril, and 
death. After the 
lapse of over two 
centuries, almost all 
memory of the terri- 
ble events we have 
descriljed has passed 
from even tiie Cana- 
dian mind. Nature 
herself .seems to have 
forgotten the tragedy, 
for, as the historian 
we have freely quoted 
remarks, " the forest 
has long since re- 
sumed its sway over 
the spot." Only to 
the student of his- 
tory, the antiquary, 
or the annalist, has 



the drear story any interest. I'.ven tin: settler in tin; district is far (roin familiar 
with the l)y-};f>ne tale. Modern pioneeiins^ in tin: region where the e\'ents occurreil 
troubles its h(;ad as little over the drama as it concerns itself with the ravaj,a;s of 
Attila or the invasion of the (lotlis. Tlu' story is one of the loni,^ jjast ; aiul, havinj^r 
recalled it, we may recnr to the |)resent. 

Now we come within the ranj^^e of livim^^ history, and if we ai^^'iin meet the 
wayward child of the woods, of whom our narrative has been so full, anil who, fierce 


^- • 


in tattoo and war-paint, was the one distiirbini^ hyjiire in the heroic as^e of Canada, we 
shall not liiul hiai (juite the l)arbarian he was, nor rcuainintj in himself or his raci; the 
wardike instincts which heri;dit\' mit^ht be expected to perpi-tuale. Colonization in the 
motlern era has at least been spared tlu; work of fighting dt:\ils. ']"he settler has hatl 
to subdue Nature, not the sa\age. If wild beasts have at times \entured ai)out his 
clearing, their skins have; been worth something; and if lu; was not himself a sports- 
man, he could relegate; the task of keeping vermin at ba\ to the spring-gun and the 
trap. Mis chief toil was not tlu: e.xtermination of aiumal life, but the clearing a home 
for himself in the fortist, the hewing down of great trees, the cratlication of stumps, the 
burning of brush, and the turning up, draining, and seeding of tlu; soil. In this was 
his labour, and in due time he had his reward. \\'lu;re was once a realm of forest- 
wealth and tangled growths of interlacing boughs, with here and there a faintly traced 
pathway or blazed trail, which oidy the Iiulian or the experienced woodsman could find 
his wa\' through, there are clearings now open to the sunlight, fertile farms and busy 
industries, and a net-work of railroails, highwa\s, and other means of communication, 




which tap the lakes at all points, and hrint,^ happily tojfcthcr the outer and inner world 
of life, work, aiul (Mijojinent. vV glance at the nia|) will show what recent years have 
done for tliis district, in bringing it witiiin the embrace of the railway system of the 
continent ; antl on all sitles there is talk of railway extension, of farther invasion into 
the old realm of tlu; forest, tiiat will ojien up large adilitional tracts of country and 
vastly increase the area of this great "Land of Homes." 

It is not quite thirty years since the first railroad was built to connect Lake 
Ontario with Lake Huron ; and now, in addition to the " Northern," which was the 
earliest railway enterprist? in tiie Province, we have .to the east of it the "Midland," 
extending from Port Hope, via Lintlsay, Heaverton, anil Orillia, to Gloucester Bay, in 
the Matchedash Peninsula, and, as it happens, passing the very site of tiie old Jesuit 
Mission of Sainte Marie. On the west, the "Toronto, Ciroy & Bruce" is seen 
stretching its long iron antennie from th(' Provincial capital to Owen .Sound. The 
" Northern," of Toronto, and its artery of connections with the " North-Western " of 
Hamilton, taj) tlie Georgian Bay at CoUingwood, Meaford and Penetanguishene, and 
l)ut forth a slioot round thi' southern i)i)undary of tin; old Huron settlements on 
Lakes Simcoe ami Couchiciiing, into the Free Grant lands of Muskoka at (jra\eniuirst, 
with early prospect of extension northward to Lake Nipissing and the line of the 
"Canada Pacific," and north-west to Sault Ste. Marie and Lake Su|)erior. 

To feed these railwa)' lines there is not only the rapidly increasing local trade, 
and the lumber industries of the Georgian Bay and adjacent region, but there is the 
great traffic of the Far West, which recent years have marvellously developed, and 
which, liiruugh these Northern ports, pours its tribute, in annually extending volume, 
into the lap of the Province. Besides the fleet of propellers engaged in the grain 
trade betwe'U CoUingwood and Midland, and the jjorts of Lake Michigan, there are 
the two lines interested in the iron, cojjper, and silver ore trade of Lake Superior and 
in tin; immigrant and general carrying trade of Prince Arthur and Duluth, viz. : the 
CoUingwood Line, operated by the Canada Transit Company, in connection with the 
North(>rii and North W^estern Railroad, and the Owen Sound Steamship Company, run- 
ning in direct connection with the Toronto, Grey ii Bruce Railroad. In addition to 
this traffic with the upper lakes, the Great Northern Transit Company have a steamer, 
in the interest of tourists and sportsmen, periodically plying between CoUingwood and 
Penetanguishene and the ports of Parry Sound and French River. The Muskoka and 
Nipissing Navigation Company have also an excellent steamboat service on the lakes 
of the Muskoka region, giving access not only to the picturesque and loch-eaten 
districts of Muskoka and Parry Sound, but, by way of the water stretches and coloni- 
zation roads beyond the Maganetawan, to the solitudes of Lake Nipissing and the 
more silent and distant waters of Hudson Bay. 

With the enumeration of the various railway and steamboat services of this sec- 


s-J»ffl«ffe5?S'**Sa!?ffi3V!^«!»S«!je*s.„ , 









tioii of Ontario, it would hn unfair to ovcrlooiv tiic laborious j^fovcriiint'iUai ami 
municipal cntrrpriscjs, in connection witii the construction of the jjjrcat roadways which 
prcctnlcd the railway aj,f<', and j^ave access to the settlements wliich, since the Simcoe 
period, ha\c one after anoliicr sprunjf up in this part of the Province. In point of 
lime, the first of tiiose was the work of the Queen's Ranj^ers, alluded to in our 
Toronto article, the construction of the hii^hway called after Sir (icori^re Yonge, 
lui^dish .Secretary of War in 1791, the perio<l of (l()V(.'rnor Simcoe's administration. 
This road, wiiich was partl\' in lint line of the okl Inilian trail hetwee'ii Lakes On> 
tario and Huron, extends from Toronto llari)our to the Holland Landing;-, where com- 
munication northward is had hy the Holland River to Lake Simcoe, thence, aj^ain by 
road, constructeil at a somewhat later date, on to tin- military station and dock-yard of 
Penetanj,niislu'ne. This road, which surmounts a high kW^v. of drift, lyinjf rouj^hly 
|)arallel to Lake Ontario, aiul some miles back from its shores, was first settleil alonj^ 
the Oak Ridi^es by French Royalist refugees, who had repaired thither after the 
French Revolution, and had received grants of land from the British government of 
llu! day. To the north of this, ami outside of the region long known as tin; Home 
District, settlement was next made, in the neighbourhood of L'ort (iwillimbury, on the 
llollaml River, ami rouml the shores of Kempenfeldt May, by military and naval 
ofilicers, who were pensioned of? at the close of the War of iS 12-15. 

This band of settlers, with tiie .Scotch colony in the south-western portion of 
West Gwillimbury, formed b)- a returned draft from Lord Selkirk's Red River settle- 
mtrnt, by process of evolution and immigration to the region, at a later day became the 
nuclei of tile population of what, aft('r the founding of the Municipal system, at the 
period of the Union of the Upper ami Lower Provinces, was known as the county of 
Simcoe. These good people, with their cont(!mporaries who formed the line of settle- 
ment along the extent of Vonge Strei't, took an active part at the Rebellion jieriod in 
the "irrepressible conllict" of the time — on thi; one side, in upholding \\\v historical 
r'amily Compact and its doings, or, on the other, in siiling with the champions of popu- 
lar rights, even to the extent of sounding the trumpet note of sedition. But neither 
into the political contests, nor into the municipal history of these northern countit^s. can 
we afford to go, save as the story bears on the opening up ami settlement of the 
region. Even the record of social and industrial jjrogress we can only incidentally 
glance at, and express the surprise that our historians are doing so little in collecting 
the gossip and ana of the various localities of the Province, whose early settlers 
have a story of heroism to tell which well deserves to be enshrined in the country's 

Besides the first and chief artery of communication from the Provincial capital to 
the waters of Simcoe, thence through the townships of Vespra and Flos to Pene- 
tanguishene, two other post-roads were early opened from Kempenfeldt Bay, in the 

,i I 




clirei'lion of Collini^uood. Ihcsc wci'c thi- Simiiidalc I-vo.kI, iIitoul;!! llir to\vi)sIii|i nl 
tliat name, am' a mad, due ui'st, on tlic tOiucssioii liin' ihal skirls tlx' soiilhciii 
hound, 11 ics of tile townships of N'cspr.i, Snnnidalc, and \dlla\vasaL;a, to ihc |>(iini wiurr 
it intcrs( cts what is tciin<(i 1 1 iiioiilaiio Sti'ci't, wiiith inns due north from ( )ianL;(\ iih' 
to Coliini^wood. i'roni tin' l.illi-r, coniniunic.ition is wrstward hy the S\d(nh.ini 
and Sauj^ccn Road, r/d Mcalord and ()\\cn Sounti. to L.ikc linion. ( )n the western 
side of tile 'lold i-i(||_;c cMends soutli-west from the iihie Mountains at CoUini;- 
wood, hy way of ()ran^e\ilie and llaniihon to the Xiai^'.ira i<i\er, ai'e a numher of 
main ;^ra\ei roads, whicli tra\erse the conniy of (irey, and ^ive access to its principal 
viilai^'es, and lo ( )w<'n Sounil, th(^ comilv town and chief poi-i. Two of these hii^h- 
ways, the Tiarafrax,! and the I'oronio and Sydenh.nn Uo.uls, wcvr. survescd, the 
former in iS-,;, and tiie latter so recently as i.S.^S. !'",acii, within the couniv, is ahoiit 
forty miles in leni^ih. I'he ( 'i,ir,dr,i\,i, which entiis (irev at Moinit iorest, on 
the honlers of the count)' ol WeiliuL^rion, runs almost due north thi-out;h 1 )in'liam aiiil 
Chatsworth, where the Sydenham Road j )ins it, to ( )wen S.)unil. Ihe Toi-onto and 
Sydeniiam Road enleis the comily at its south-i'ast an|^de, and, hy way of Mesherton, 
close hy which are the l'!uL;(-'nia I'alls, strikes norlh-wesl for the count)' town. These 
roads are intersected ahoul the midiUe ol the countv \>y the I )ui'ham, whi<'h 
rims west from ISarrie, ;'/.r .Sini^hampton, I'lesherion, ,'uul I )ui"ham, to Kincardine and 
Lake I iuron. 

TIk; roronto, ('ire\' iS; Hruce Railroad, alread\' relerreci to in connection with the 
railwa)' s)'st(mi of the count)', runs parallel with the 'I'oronto ,uid Svdenh.un post-road, 
intersects the townships of Melaiictiion, Ariemesia, and I iolland, and reaches ( )w'en 
Sound 1)\' the westi'i'u borders of the township ol S)'denham. The Indian townships 
of the peninsula, stretching;' off to the nortii-wesl ol ( )w'en Sound, are serx'ed 1]\' the 
Wellington, (iri')- tV Bruce Railwa\', an extension of which runs north to ('olpo\''s 


With this !:;]anc(; from iIk; rear ;U the principal towns of iIk' (ieoi-^jkin Ba\', the 
reaiier will he prepareil to acconipau)' us romul the shores ol lUr. ha)' ; and, placini^ 
himself on souk; point out on ils w.U(;rs, will hi! able, with his face; southward, lo note 
how the \arious ports on this iidand sea have for their ch'wA centre and coii^eri^inL^ 
point the caj)ital of the Province, which, in the successive eras of ils projrress, aided 
the coiistruclioii of a network of communication to these northern waters, and, in ever 
increasiui^ measure, thrills it with the pidsations of its commercial and intlustri.'il life. 
To speak of what was once a distant Toronto to an old settler of the rtit^ion, is to 
recall to his minil the imbroken fori^st rounil the; shores of the ba)', with all the 
crudity and rouij^hness, as well as the stern solitude, of the hrst settlement jieriod, 
when steamshi|)S and locomotives were \'et in the womb of time, and the onl)- echoes 
of the place were the scream of the loon and the occasional click of the woodman's 


GJSOA'c;/.LV /hlV, .l.\7> Tim MLSKOK.l L.IKES. 





axi;. Comparctl witli that pcrioil, wliat ch(;er to Iiiin must it now be to own the 
luindrcils of ilcarcd acres iliat sinilc; llicir plentN' roniul the lionicstead his own hands 
have reared ; to note tlie traffic on lak(,', roail, and rail tiiat passes dailj' l)efore his 
eyes ; to lia\e towns, mills, churclu's, school-houses, and the doctor, within easy reach 
of his dwelling-, with nothini,^ to vex or make afraid, save, it may be, the itinerant 
book-hawker or nurseryman, and the vote-hunting politlcan. Does the early settler 
say "that, notwithstanding^, the former times were better than these?" Then he but 
plays a prank on his memory, or fails to put in the scale against past pleasures the 
richer life of the present. 



PIC n Ri-:souii c.ia\i/>.i. 


i rciip Mt.'aford, in tlic county of drey, tn Collingwooil, is an hour's ride by rail. 
The road skirts the siic/res of tiie i)a\', and in the vicinity of riiornlniry affords a 
dclij^htfid jflinipse of the hij^ii l)hiifs of tlu- l?kie Mountains, wiiich tr.uiTsc' the town- 
ship of Coliintj^wood and shoot oil soulhwanl throui^li liie l'ro\ince. riu;re is some 
fine scener\' in tlic; neiirhhourliood of tlnse mountains, wliich are largely composed of 
metamor[)hic rock, and are lissure-d and h>)llo\veil in a ij^ruesomc inanncM'. Here was the 
home of the Tobacco Nation ; and in the i^dens and caxcs of the rei;ion tlie hunted 
of the tribe, no iloubt, often sought refuge from tlu; Irotpiois. Some of the fissures 
ill the rocks which the tourist steps over are a hundred feet deep. In the southern 
portion of tiie adjoining township of Xottawasaga, the Mad l\i\er, a iributarx' oT tile 
Nottawasaga, pursue;; its headlong and erratic course, ami siipi)lii:s the moti\t.' power to 
many mills and other industries in the villages of tin: township. The o'.lur streams 
arc; the Prett_\- ami tlu; Bateau, both of which fall into Xottawasaga Hay. Throughout 
the township are a numl^er of exc(illeiit school-houses, mostly of brick, a model of one 
of which, School Section Xo. 20, wi'.s on \ iew at tlu; Centennial l^xhibition, and 
attracted the notice of the rejiresentatives of foreign governments, soiiu! (if whom had 
copies of it made. I'rom the character and i;([uipment of the school-liouses of tlu: 
district, we would infer thai education in Xottawasaga t:)wnsliip fares well. 

Rut we now arrive at CoUiiigwood, which deri\-es its nair.e from tiie great admiral. 
It is situated on lien and Chickens llarlxuir, is it ust:d to be called, from a group 
of small islands of that name a short d.istance from shore. The position of the town 
is not attr;icti\'e. and any importance it has is due to the fact that ii is the termi- 
nus of the Xorthern and Xorth-Western Railroad, ami the cliiel port of departure for 
the ste,iiiu;rs on the Upper Lakes. Its jiriiicipal local traile is in t'isl; and lumber, 
aiul in the latter, pariicularK', there is much monev in\-esl< d. l)uring the summer 
season the wharves present a bu;,_i' s|)i.ctacle, in the going and coming, the loading and 
unloading, of the v.irious cr.ift e'lg.iged in the passenger and tarrying trade of the 
Xorth-west. Lofty c:le\ators and capacious w.irehouses give; facility for the haiulling 

antl ilespatch of tli:s throisgh tr.ule ; while an ext-'iisiv 

e liailiou 

r allords accommodation 

for the mooring and transhipinenl of the great r;;fts of timber tli.U come down Irom 
the Al; .)ma and Parry .S(,und inlets. The port statistics in grain of a single season 
woukl surprise "tlie uncommercial tra\c;llc;r." and open his iiund to the we; 1th of the 
Occident. The tonnage ol the iron ore from Lake .Superior that |iasses this port in 
transit, would als) be ;i revelation to him ; and the sliipiiu:nts iiinu.illy increase in 
Milume and in value. Collingwood has active competitors for the coinnu;rct; of the 
West, ;uicl more' pictiirescpie towns are likely to snatch from it the tourist trade. 

()f tlu: (leorgi.ui i>ay we shall ha\c more: to sa\' farther on, particularly o( the 
romantic scenery about the islands of Parry .Sound, and u' the charming inshore e.x- 
L'ursion from the .S miiuI to Penetanguishene. Meantime, leaving Collingwood, let us 









run clown tlu' " Nortli- 
crn," past the husy 
\illa!^cs cii^ai^i'd in tlic 
IiinilxM' trailc of Stay- 
Mcr and An^ns, to 
AllamlalL' and IJarrif, 
w licrc \vc sliall nioet 
tile loui'isis li-om To- 
ronto lioiinii for tlu.' 
Muskoka Lakes. At 
tlu- prLll) station of 
Allandak', any line 
diirin_L; the luoiuhs of 
JiiK', August, and S( iilcnila'r, one: 
s likcl\- to meet stray j)k-asur('- 
sL'ckcrs, or family or canipinL;- 
)arli('s, >\ith the iiiipcdiuicuta of 
canoes, camp-stores, and cooking; 
itensils, liound northward lor a 
few ila\s or weeks' relaxation in 
tlu: l<ili\rinth of waters that till 
the hollows of Muskoka. W'ith- 
11 eas\- hail ol the l'ro\iiu;ial 
■ajiital there is lu) trip more de- 
iL;htful. oi- to tlu' overworked 
)usiness or prolessional man more 
nvis^oratiiiL;. than a jomney iu)rth- 
ward to the hiL;h latittidi's aiul 
changeful sceiu:s of i. (^s Mus- 
koka. Rosscau, or Joseph. We 
lere nanu' these w.i;:'rs alone of 
the rcL^ion, simply hecause the\- 
are most rc'liahly served l>y the 
stcamhoats on the lakes. Tiie 
lis'rict, howe\'er, is, in minia- 
ure, like the west of .Scotland, 
ninus the momitains and the 
U'ather, a land ol loch.s atul 
isles, hills and dales, anil, "bar- 



rini;" the l)lacl< lly ami the mosquito, a veritalilu paradise for tiic devotees of the 
rod and i;iin. 

IWit we arc as )'ct some hours from Paradise, thoui^li tlie sheen of tiie waters at 
. iir feet l)i'^uili.'s us into the hehef tiial we are within its ])ortals. 'I'iie \iew from tlie 
jiuiction at Allandah', of ISarrie opposite', tin; hmiLj swfep of Kenipeiifeldt Was, ami the 
wooded shores of either sidt', softl\- recedin<( from tiie \ision. is one of tlie most per- 
fect hits of Nature the Pro\ince can Ijoast. TIk' outlool< <i\er tiu,' i)undas \'alle\-, 
and that from the iu-i,LdUs of Oueenston, may be bracketed witli it, in their appeals to 
tlu! artist e)(; and tiie poetic instinct. Harrie has already Iummi introduceil in our 
paj^ijs in connection with the (;arly militar\- iiii^hway from 'I'oronto to I'enetani^uisiiene. 
Its town records bei^in to ilate from 1S19, when it becamr a depot for military stores 
for posts on tin: Upi- 1 Lakes, ami for settli:rs' su|)plies in the mnnhbouring town- 
ships. In its anna!.T is recorded the visit of the ill-fated Sir John I'ranklin, who, in 




iSj;. made a halt it the town on his wa\', by thi-- overland route, to the rei^ions of 
the l'"ai- Xorlh. Later, by a couple o{ years, John (lalt acce|)ted its as yi-t rou^li 
hospitalities on his land-ex plorini^ expedition, in llu: interest c^'" tl..' Cu> idi Company, 
to I'cnetani^iiishene, which he refers to as "the remotest and most inland dock-\ard 
that owns alletdance to ' the meteor llay' of IuiL;iand.' " The town takes Its name 
iri^ni Commodore ISarrie. who conimamUd a iirilish naval s(]uadrou at Kini'^ston 


PIC TURESQ UK L A A '. / All . 

durinjr the War of 1S12-15. At this period, and for some time after, the military 
post at Barrie was protected by an armed schooner on tiie I,ai<e, kc'pt in commission, 
it is said, l)y a family of U. K. Loyalists, until the pipin<f times of peace supplanted 
the \var-shi|> l)y the non-l)elli_<i;erent craft of commerce. The marine history connected 
with Lake Simcoe and the county town is really more interestintj than that of Harrie 
itself ; but we must pass it by, with much else of local concern. The present-day 
aspect of the town is sintjularly attractive. It is a deli,Ljhtful mixture of the r/is 
ill iir/>i\ and its residences on the finely-wooded ridge, that forms the background to 
the town, have an Old World air of comfort and beauty. It has the advantages of 
a gooil market, a handsome town-hall, a court-house, many fme churches, a collegiate 
institute, with an al)le teaching staff, and an excellent mouL'l school. Its citizens have 
also be(>n pul)licspirited enough to lay out anil maintain a pleasure jiark ; and pri\at(! 
enter|/rise has :;'.ipplied the conventional political organs, warranted to play the whole 
vcpcrtoin- of part)- tunes. 

At Lake Simcoe, or, if desired, at Holland Landing, Bradfortl, or Rel'.e Ewart, 
the tourist can launch himself on the waters of that long chain of lake ami river com- 
munication that stre'tches, Ijy devious ways, for a hundred mih^s or so northward. 
W'ith a canoe or light-draught sail boat, he can start from the Ib^Mand River, cross 
Cooks' liay and Lakt; .Simcoe, and make for the Narrows, at the entrance of Lake 
Couchiching, in one day's paddling or sailing. Resting for the night at Orillia, or, if 
he prefers it, on some island or point of land in the neighbourhooil, another day's 
journe\- will take him over .the beautiful waters of Couchiching, and down the wind- 
ings of the Severn River, say as far as Sparrow Lake. I'rom this central point he 
can continue his explorations, in one direction, throughout tlu; length of the Severn to 
its moulli on Matchcdash Hay, and so on, in and aI)out the inlets of this estuary, or 
by direct fliglit nortJuvard through the maze of islands that gem the inshori! waters of 
the ("leorgian Bay, to the iirchipelago of Larry Sound. In another direction, \\v. can 
quit his c;>mi)ing-gr()und on the shores of .Sparrow Lake, autl, leaving the .Si-vern 
River, striki! northward through Morrison, Rice, Long, Deer, and I'ine Lakes, into 
the southern wati-rs of Muskoka ; or, branching off at Leg Lake, by sundry portages, 
vii} l'\ho, (lull, and CIc;ar Lakes, emerge in the vicinity of the beautiful b'alis of Bala. 
Continuing this latter trip, he may descend the Muskosh River, a continuation of the 
Muskoka, on the w^estern side of tlie Lake, and, b\- wa\' of (io llonie Lake, strike 
the (ieorgian liay, in tlr township of ("iil)son. brom S|)arrow Lake anotlier expe- 
dition might !)(■ de'lermined upon eastward, by the Ri\('r and Lake Kah-shoshe-bog-a- 
mog, on l)y Ilor.scy's Rapids, Bass Lake, .and (iarter .Snake River, t(j the heart of 
the townshii, of R\(le. r(^turnin'r from Kah-she-she-boLT-a-moLT, b\- th(^ northern branch 

)f tl 

u' n\(M". past IJK 

at Malt. I, and so on to the point from w 


lie set out. 

In any and all of tlu: expediti 

ons ne wu 

1 havi- to be his own caterer. If attached to 



a party, he may find one of the niiml)er willing to experiment in the culinary art, pro 
bono /)iihlico ; if alone, and with no stomach for ♦:he food he cooks, lie had better re- 
sort to some of the Indian villages on his way up the lakes, and hire a clwf de cusiiic, 
who will also be useful as a guide and an aid in portaging. 

To those making for the larger waters of the region, ami with no craving for ilu; 
novelties of camping-out, or relishment for an a I fresco meal on a bare rock or burnt stump 
in the wooils, we would biil them keep discreetly to their "rullman" on the Northern, 
until they arrive at Gravenhurst and are transferred to the steamers on Muskoka, 
thence to one or other of the hotels at some point on the lakes. l-'rom Harrie (to 
return to our narrative), the "Northern" trends round the upper shores of the old lac 
lies Claies (L. .Simcoe), past the sombre woods of Shanty Bay, and on through Oro 
township to Orillia. .Shanty Bay was first settled by Lt. Col. \Vm. O'Brien, who 
came some si.\ty years ago to the tlistrict on a philanthropic mission in connection 
with a proposal, on the part of the British Government, to found a coloured colony in 
the township of Oro. The enthusiasm of the W'ilberforce period living out, the pro- 
ject was ne\er prosecuted beyond tlu; stage of giving its African name to the town- 
ship. The region was sui)se(piently in part settled by half-pay officers of the army 
and navy, Kempenfeldt Bay receiving its name from a retired naval commander, who 
was with Admiral l)uncan in his engagements with tlu; Dutch. 

We now approach the pretty town of Orillia and the waters of Couchiching, which, 
being translated, means the " I.ake of Many W'intls." Here we begin to feel the exiiila- 
ration of a high latitutle, the Lake being 750 feet above Ontario, ami almost 400 feet 
above .Superior. 0\\ either side of the higli plateau the rivers run in opposite direc- 
tions. Formerly, there was a steamboat service between Barrie and the Lake; Simcoe 
ports and Orillia ; but of late the railways have supplanted the steamers. The latter, 
however, are still to be chartered for e.xcursion parties, and for the outing of the 
townspeople. As we draw up to the station, a well-known craft on waters 
steams to the landing, and throngs the wharf with holiday folks, among whom the 
Indiaii silently stalks, selling his g.iy bead-work and birch-bark knick-knacks. • 

The settlement of the township of Orillia was begun about the year iS;,o, and 
from its thrifty homesteads have come many young m(>n who have taken jirominent 
positions in the ranks of the professions. The town, however, has been largely 
associateil with Imlian history. Near by was the fortitied Huron town of Cahiatpie ; 
and here, from 1828 to 1S39, were located, under treaty, large numbers of the 
Chippewa tribe, who were subsequently removed to Rama, an extensive Indian re- 
serve on the other side of the Lake. To this tribe Lord Dufferin, in 1874, paid a 
memorable visit. This act of vice-regal courtesy was much appreciated, and brought 
out on the Lake a large and vivid mustering of the wards of the nation. The 

modern town of Orillia is attractively situated on ground which shelves up somewhat 





abruptly from the lake l"n)ni the IkmhIus iIk; outlnok on tlu; Lak(; is cliariniiio, tlu; 
scene, as the writer recalls it on a bri.i^lit summer afternoon, hein},^ one of warm, soft 


sunlight and ''listcnin!/ heautw ( )n the \vhar\es e\'er\- fa(ilit\- is 'Mven for boat 


lishini/, a 


'cneral ru 

sticatini;-; tlu' islands anil points rounil the Lake are invit 


and trolling- and an^liiii 
and till' linest of bass 

is li\t:ly work. Majfnilicent bauls of sparklinj^ brook-trout 


on a 

proper season, a ^ood showing' ol parlridL;"!' or duek can 

■iuitablc da\ 



sportsman ; and, in 

be b 



Ojjposite the town is a 

ocalilv known as " The \,ir 

I'ows, tile Imk ol connc;ction 

I let wet 

n I 

akes Sinu'or ami Couchicl 


and in the ret'ds and ilea 

r shallows o 

f th. 

place wiul 

and lin conLireiiale. On a beaulifulU' wootlrd spur ol land, closi; b\-, acorn 

pan\' some \-ears a^o erected a spai 

ions hotel, and lai 

d out a nmnber of acres m 



amental ijrounds ; but not lont'' after its erection the hotel, unfiu-tunateK', fell a 

to the 



Over the Xairows the two railways pass b\- means of lon^ swiiii; 


on pili-s. 

mil HI 

passini^ afford to the traveller a pleas 


limpse of 

Orilli.i and its vicinity. 

Leax'ini,^ Orillia. anil crossini,^ the Narrows, our ro.ul b\- rail now lies aloni^ the 
east side of Lake Couchichintj^, throu<;h the township of Rama, \mtil we come to 
W'ashairo and .Severn iiridofe. At \\'asha''d tin; agriculturist, or even the cattle- 

,ii^razier, will be a| 

ipalled at the abrupt and startlim^^ change in the aspect of Nature. 
•t the poor settler, wi 

Here the Cxclops met the poor settler, with his heart in his mouth, as he took his 
tirst look of Muskoka tiirou^h this sti'rn LCatew.iy of the I'ree (irant Lands. ('leolojTically, 


lie district IS siii'nilarlv interestiiu 

lilt such an u|Hiltii 

if th 


oor o 



1 rock must have daunted the 

soul o 

f the slunliest inteiidiiiij settler. \'et this 



iiic'iss of i^nc'iss, — a coiiimouikI of ([uartz, mica, and L;ranit(!, -is hut an alii"u|itly juttin<^ 
liarrii.T, sfcniin^l)' sliot up to test liis metal, and k-.w. loni; mcrcifullv in disa|i|Hiar, ii 
In.' lias courage to i;\- forward. \\'(' lia\c spoken of approaching a Paradise : tiie first im- 
|)rcssion of tiie immiL^rrant must he tliat lie come to tin- contlnes of an Inferno. 

At .Se\crn llridLjc, a few miles farther on, th<' L;ranite frown upon Nature's face 
visihly softens ; and as we cross the outlet of the waters of CouchicliinL;, which here 
Ihid their way to tlu; G(;or<^ian 15a\- ii\' the Sescrn l\i\cr, we (piit the county of 
.Simcoe and enter the township of Morrison, the tirst hloik in the territorial heri- 
ta^'e of the settler. liere, hy the hounty of the Crown, a tract of land, with an 
area, in the districts alone of Muskoka and l'arr\ .Sound, of o\cr six thousand square 
miles, has heeii set asitle, under the Provincial l''r<'e (Irant and lloinestead Act of 
1S6S, for the homes oi ImniiLirants. I'nder the liuist irksome conditions of settle- 
ment, the male head oi a lamil\' can acrpiire. " without nionex' and without price," two 
hundred .icres of culti\ahle land : and each son o\cr the aj^c; of eighteen can hecome 
possessed of a hundred acres in his own rii,dit. for the purposes of bona fide settle- 
ment and cultixation. 

1 '41 ! 





The Free Grant Lands we are entering upon exttMnl, or are designed to extend, 
from Severn Bridge, on the south, to Lake Nipissing and the I'rench River, on the 

1 I 



\ ; 

north. Their loiiG^itiulinal area comprises a holt of varyinor hrcadth, roachinij from 
tile Geors^ian i5ay. throiit;!! Musi<ol<a. portions of \'ictoria, I ialiljurtoii, \i|)issinj;, ami 
Renfrew, to llu; Ottawa. I'Or llic most part, it is only honest to say, that the I'Vee 
Grant territory is a wild rci,non ; bu*^ thouLjh hitherto tht; abodes of solitude, the 
several tlistricts are rapidly beinn' brouijht within rearh of civilization, and hert; and 
there iMider a fair me.isun' of cultivation. The district \\v. are at present con- 
cerned with affords the most convincini^ evidence of this. 't is not many years 
since the rigours of residence in the tlistrict h.irrowed the heart of the humane, in 
British joiu-nals. to tleier immii^ration hither. Pait llu' same journals that pub- 
lished liie wails of I'^n^lish i^entlewomen, who bra\-eil the early terrors of the region, 
have since i^ixcn i^ralifyinL,^ testimony to the impro\ed coiulitions of its later life. 
•■ .Mist'r\- loves compan)'," sa\s the okl proverb, thout^h the attractions of miserj' will 
hardly account for an increase in the p<)])ulation of the district from 300 in the jear 
1S61, to j^d.oKi in the \'ear 1SS2. Hut population has not bei'n its only j^ain. 
I'o|)ulaiion, while yivint^' llu- si:ltl(;r a nei!.(hbour, L;ives the nei<i[hbourhood the benefit 
of his work. The rei^ion has Ijeen o|)eneil up ; clearinsj^s have been madi- ; roads 
cut ; mills slarteil ; boats chartt;red ; and communication exerywhert; extended. The 
settler can now t;i't not onl\- into his clearinj;-, but lu- can L;et out to a market. 
He can e\(;n ha\e his tlaily mail; anil in man\' (piarters the mornini;' city papers are 
read by thousands in the district ('ach day before dark. This circumslanci: y;oes a 
Ioul;' wa\' in reconciling' th<- settler to his lot, for in lonely rei^ions there is no cheer 
more potent than the |)assinL;' steamboat or staii^e carrjintj the mail-bat:^. 

The truth about Miiskoka is not now a matter of tloubt : it has had its day of 
small thin<;s, and the settler his hour of trial. Isolatetl from his fellows, the pioneer's 
life was set in shailows. If he had to cross a stream, it was upon 1ol;s ; and his 
nearest neighbour may once ha\'e beiMi a weeks' journey off. We have heard of a 
settlc'r who had lost count of the days of thi; week, and through a whole winter had 
been keepini;- Tuesilay as the Day of Rest. Nowadays, unless as a protest ai;ainst 
.Sabbatarianism, tiiere is little dant^er of the settler consciously repeatini^ this mistake, 
for not only is he now surrounded by neighbours, but the permanent missions and the 
itiiKM'ant di\inily student mav Ik; trustetl to jol; his memory in rej^aril to \\\v eccles- 
iastical calendar. His tem])oral well-beinij^, what(;ver hartlships he has hatl to undergo, 
is now beyond dispute. Within tlv. space of ten or twehe years, men who have 
taken up land in the district, ;ind who brought little with them save their families and 
their pluck, have each their homestead and clearing, with well filled barns and more 
or less stock. The climate is delightful, and, particularly round the lakes, has not the 
extremes of temperature experienced in the older settled portions of the Province. 
Wheat raising, it is true, is not always to be depended upon, but with the introduc- 
tion of artificial fertilizers, this objection may soon be removed. Grasses, however, 




■^^'^'^'^^0^'- '■ 

grow luxuriantly, and coarse grains and "" 

root crops are an amazing success. The papture. moreover, doesn't burn up in 
midsummer as it does to tlie south. Hence, for stock-raising and dairying, there is 


PfC ri 'R r.SO 1 7f CANAI h-l . 

no portion of the I'rovincc so suital)lc. Cattle li\c and fatten in tiic woods for seven 
niontlis in tlir year. In tiic woods, inilucd, they find their most succuh'nt pastnraye, 
and from i lioic(! tliey will l(.'a\(! a elover-tic^ld to browse on the shoots of the yoiinjj 
basswood and maple. lor slieep-raisin;^ the roiky land ol lln' district is also excel- 
lent, as \('L;ctalion is both nutritious and abundant. 

There are ilrawbacks, of course, to settlenu'nt in Muskoka, but only such as time 
will renioNc. Ihere is want of increased railuax connnuniiation, and th<' facilities 
which the caltle-raiser. in particular, is in need of in re.ichin^ a market. I'or his 
jnM"poses, also, the command of capital is a necessity, to enable iiim tt) im|)ort into tin; 
district the means of im|)ro\inL;' his stock. With increased capital, there is also need 
of the dissemination of more liberal ideas on farmini;, for it will pay to ilrain and 
fertilize the lanil. and much of the best of it is yet iti be rtclaimed from the beaver- 
meadow and swamp. 

I'lu' proportion of ;^-ood land is said to be sixty per cent, of tlu; whole, the soil 
for the most part bein^;' a sandy loam with cla\ subsoil, anil in e.xteiisisc tracts 1) ing 
back of the lakes, s^enerally free from stone. The root crops are unii.snally large, 
anil, if we e.Nce])t the turnip, are iinalfecti'd b\- the attacks of pi^sts. Potatoes yield 
some three hundred bushels to the acre, and turnips from si.\ to nine hundred 
bushels. O.its, rye, barle)', and corn ar-j the chief cereals; oats, the chief crop, 
generally yieldiiiL;' lifty bushels to the acre. Wheat, in the absence of lime and the 
scarcity of salt, rarely yields more than twenty-live bushels to the acre. The hay 
yielil is from one and a half to two tons. 

The lumberman, too, has his harvest in the distric", and though the best of the 
hardwood is bein:^' rapidly thinned out, there yet falls to his many sturdy giants 
of the forest. The timber products of the region iin hide white-oak, black-birch, 
black-oak, l)lack anil white-ash. reil-pine, sjjruce,- tamarack, and hemlock. The bark of 
the latter is to the settler no inconsiderable source of re\enue at the hands of the 
tanner; and from the lumberman's camp comes much read) nione\ lor hay and oats 
sold to it during th<" winter operations. The settler who is a good sportsman has 
also in the district other means of keeping the |)ot a-bi/l. The winter brings him, 
if a Ximrod. many products of the chase, or if a trapper, .. variety of more or less 
valuable fur. Though the bear and the wolf are receding with the advance of civiliza- 
tion, moose and deer are yet plentiful ; and with a good dog and skill in wood-craft, 
the settler can supply his larder with no end of venison. The tri 'sure of the trapi)er 
includes mink, beaver, marten, and mviskrat. The lakes and streams, moreover, abound 
with fish, and even the novice can always make a good basket of trout, bass, pickerel, 
perch, and what is terined herring. Whatever his disadvantages, it will be seen, the 
lot of the immigrant in Muskoka need nut be an unhappy one. 

Passing from this enumeration of the resources of the region, let us now introduce 

^!i i 







■k of 









the reailer to the hikes, at the approacii to wliich wi; had for ilic tiiiK: left liiin. 
Arrivint,' at (iravenhiirst, tlie railway joiiriKjy is completed, and tlu! train is siiunted 
down l)y a siiU; line to Muskoka wharf. Both at the town, which lies on tlie shores 
of (lull l.ake, and at tlie wharf, the roiii^dx picturescjueness ot tin: reunion is dominated 
hy the himherini^ operations of nianx saw-mills, and the e\'e is fain to seek the |)lacid 
heauty of the water as a relief to the uncouth disarrax' of tlu' scene on shore. Lake- 
ward all is invitinj;', and one at least of the trim little steamlxials ai tlu; moorin!:;s is 
im[)aiii.:nt to be off. Steam navigation on these; water-stretches, thanks lo the enter- 
prise of Mr. .'\. P. Cockburn. fhe Dominion representative of the district, was beirun in 
1866, when the " Wenonah " made her lirst trip to Rracebridge. whither she still plys, 
followed in 1871 by the " Nipissing," on board ol which let us seek an appetizing 











^ l£ 11112.0 



^ llllii 111 









WEBSTER, NY. 14580 

(716) 872-4503 







f ^ 





dinner and passage in tJK! first stage of our excursion on tlie lakes. The "Wenonah's" 
service is confined to tiie lower Lake ( Muskoka,) plying daily between Bracebridge and 
Gravenhurst, anil semi-weekly between the latter port and Bala. Tiic " Nipissing," in 
addition to her service on tiie lower Lake, makes a daily trip to the head of Lake 
Rosseau, and twice a week to Port Cockburn, at the head of Lake Joseph. The 
length of the single trip is about fifty miles; and the steamer is "timed" to make 
connection witii the morning tr:iins from Toronto and Hamilton, and, running the 
entire length of Lakes Muskoka and Rosseau, brings the tourist to the head of the 
latter, with its ample hotel accommodation, in time for the evening meal and a 
comfortable bed. 

The tourist, if he is not absorbed in the scramble for dinner, as he Ictv/es Graven- 
hurst will note the view that almost instantly opens up in fine panoramic effect before 
him. Passing the "Narrows," which seem almost to close the waters of the Lake from 
intrusion into tiie port, we begin to thread our way tiirough a succession of islands 
little, if at all, inferior in romantic beauty to those on the historic St. Lawrence. The 
interest is varied at every turn. Now we are attracted by some tiny, moss-grown 
islet, a mere sp>;ck of rock above the water, but upon which, nevertheless, a few stunted 
specimens of the Red Pine of the regior have contrived to gain foothold. Anon, we 
brush the margin of a densely wooded island, whose shady ravines and hillsides are 
clothed with a vegetation almost tropical in its undisturbed luxuriance. Artist or 
botanist, here is material in profusion for either ! Yon glimpse, were we not hurrying 
by, how we should like to transfer to our sketch-book ; anil there ! on the face of that 
cliff, we are sure there is much we should take away in our specimen-box. The 
region, as it has its own physical conformation, has its own distinctive tlora. Many 
plants of mori; than ordinary interest to the botanist here find suitable conditions of 
growth. The beautiful White Fringed Orchis — the loveliest of all the Habenarias — and 
the splendid Cinnamon and Royal Osmund Ferns grow to perfection in low and moist 
situations, while the Polypody and the .Shield-fern flourish In the higher grounds. In 
the district are also found in e.xceptional abundance Club-mosses of various species, 
and the curious Pitcher-plant nestles in its moss-setting along the margins of marshy 
pools. But to describe farther the Muskoka plant-world we should want our native 
" Macoun and Spotton " or the ample text-books of American botanists. 

Meanwhile "The Nipissing" has traversed the long reach of gleaming water that 
fills the lower basin of Lake Muskoka ; and for the next half hour we skirt on our 
left two of the largest islands in the Lake, their banks laden with a tangled luxuriance 
of brushwood, bramble, and wild-flowers. The first of these is called Browning's 
Isl-.nd, and is partly owned, it will chill the heart of the lover of the picturesque to 
be told, by the Muskoka Mill and Lumber Company. The second is a veritable Eden, 
and the taste as well as the wealth of its owner, a well-known and much respected 



member of the local judiciary, will, it may be taken for jrranted, long preserve 
" Eilean (iowan" from the desecrating hand of Commerce. Lying. ;i mass of verdure 
on the Lake, the ledges of rock glistening under the afternoon sun, the stray glimpses 
we get of the interior beauty of the island are as many voices that cry a halt, and 
excite unappeased longing to land and invade its recesses. There are walks and drives 
in and round about this island of great attractiveness, and no little ingenuity has been 
displayed in blending art and nature in one harmonious whole. Wild masses of rock, 
fallen or decayed trees, hollows and irregularities in the surface, have been taken 
advantage of to secure effects as surprising as they are delightful ; while landing- 
stages have been improvised, and cool nooks, commanded by grottoes and embowered 
lounging-places, engirt the island at successive stages, rnd woo the sojou'-ner with 
irresistible attraction to one of the most beautiful of ihe many woodland shrines in 
this northern " Land of the Lotus." 

Opposite the eastern front of " Eilean-Gowan " is the delta of the Muskoka River, 
and from the reedy shores that mark the river's outlet a bewildering haze of mist rises 
to confuse the helmsman, as the steamer makes a wide detour to strike the channel. 
The course of the .river is tortuous and full of surprises ; at times the steamer seems 
to be heading right into a precipitous cliff fringed with forest, at others to be 
" boomed " by a mass of rank vegetation in a ciil dc sac of green. For six miles 
we pursue our sinuous course until the echoes of the steamer's whistle are borne back 
to us in mocking notes from the cascaded heights in tlie heart of the village of 
Bracebridge, and for a time we pull ;'p at the busy landing-place of the metropolis of 
the Free Grant District and the head of Muskoka River navigation. 

The site of Hracebridge is elevated and well-chosen, and gives access to tht sport 
and picturesque beauty of some ten townships, whose waters are drained by the two 
branches of the Muskoka River. To the immigrant it is a centre of importance, 
for here is the chief agency of the Immigration Bureau, and from here settlers are 
forwarded to their locations, either about the lakes, or distributed at near or distant 
points along the Government Colonization roads that penetrate the region. To the 
immigrant, \\\ another sense, is Bracebridge important, for here is the local source of 
the settler's supplies, and here at need, too, is the doctor. It is, we believe, no un- 
common thing for /F^sculapius to receive" a summons that will taki; h!m, it may be, 
fifty or sixty miles off through the wintry woods, to give his services to those who 
need them. At such disadvantage, ecpially hard is the lot of those who have to 
summon, and him who responds to the appeal for, the doctor. 

In winter, when the lakes are frozen, and Parry Sound and the Georgian Bay 
are, too, in the grip of the Ice- King, Bracebridge more than ever asserts its 
supremacy, for it then becomes the sole dependence of the settler for his ex- 
traneous wants, and to and from it come the passenger stage and the daily mail, 





together witli the amplc-roljed conveyances of those 
wlio traffic in tlie woods. Hut Bracebridge has 

reason to hold up its head, for not only is it an im])ortant local centre, and a city 
set upon a hill in the ijreat hiL,di\vay of northern travel, i)ut it has the distini^rjiishinu; 
characteristic of ijettinL,' alon<^ without railway facilities, and is thus sutticient unto it- 
self. Some day it will become in name, as it is now in reality, the ounty town, 
and may boast itself of a cathedral and an ecclesiastical endowment, as il alrcach 
contains the see-hous(! of a bishop. As a manufacturing; centre, it has alread\ made 
progress, anil its excelli'iit water-privileges supply the moti\e ])ower for a number of 
woollen, grist, i)laning, and saw-mills, sash and door factories, etc., in adilition to the 
indispensal)l(' industries of the blacksmith and wheelwright. '\\\v. village, moreover, 
rejoices in the possession of one of the nu^st complete and well-ecpnppetl tannerit!s 
in the countrj-. 

To counteract the materializing effect of a rajiid industrial de\elopment, and to 
woo the lover ol the picturescpie, Bracejjridge has not only in the neighbouring town- 
ships, but in its imnu^diate vicinity, many natural attractions, and much in the wa)' of 
fme scenery whicii, with the s|)ort for which it is noted, gi\e it preeminent position 
among the pleasural)le resorts of the district. In full view of the tourist, the Hrace- 
Ijridge Fall, si.xty feet in iieight, displays its allurements as we approach the lantling; 



and to tliose wlui art; content witli a siipcrticial insncction of tin; cascade a view may 

be had without (|iiittin_L; the steamer. Hut a stroll to the briili^t: that spans it, and an 

excursion to die South I'alls of the Muskoka, some; few miles from the villaj^e. arc 

well worth a day's sojourn at Urarebrid^e, even if the tourist is unwiliini; to extend 

his trip to the series of lakes tiiat lie to the north-east. To tiie canoeist, as well as 

to tile sportsman, the whole rej^ion is uni(|ue in its attractions; the cliain of co ;iiected 

waters, reached by way of the soutli branch of the Muskoka River, eml)racinL,f the 

Lake of Bays, Peninsula, Fairy, Vernon, and Mary Lakes, and rei irniiii;- by the 

northern waters of the Muskoka, opens a panorama of tiirillinLj pleasure and delight 

to those who enjoy Nature in seclusion. Those unaccustomc!d to tiie amphiljious life 

of the canoeist, and to whom 

the broken river na\ij^ation 

and the necessary porta<,nng 

would be serious obstacles in 

taking this trij), may proceed 

by stage or private conveyance 

to Baysville, where they can 

boartl tin; steami;r and make 

the circuit of Trading Lake ; 

or they can drive to I'ort 

Sj-dney, at the foot of Mary 

Lake, take the steamboat for 

Huntsville, and make the tour 

of the three charming '.iieets 

of water in that region. To 

the sportsman, the territory 

embraced in the townships lying 

to the north-east of Bracebridge 

has a special charm, for in the 

lakes and streams trout are 

abundant, and in tlu- woods, in 

season, will bi; found plenty of 


Besides the Falls at Brace- 
bridge, there are others on both 
branches of the Muskokn which 

well repay a visit— the High Falls, some four miles distant, being specially picture 
esque. But the honours are carried off by the South I'alls, whose features 
are made familiar by the artist in our pages. They occur on the south branch 

STAf;!'. KOAD— 




lUC J Y Vv" /:\SY ) Uli CANADA. 

of tlic Muskoka, on the sta^e-road to (ir.ucnliiirst, aiK'. no \isitor to tlio region 
should omit to sec tlicin. Tiic scene is a wilii one, liie rixcr sIiooiIiil;' a series 
of Icdijcs, and vikinL; a ilescent of a hundred fec;t in tlie space of thret; inuidred 
yards. The tourist comes suiiilenly upon tiic cataract, for it is not seen until lie pulls 
up on the hritlge, a short distance- above the upper hasin. Mere the ri\er, which for 
miles has been sauntering along in idle dalliance, the dark forest crooning over the 
Stygian stream, suddenh' awakes from its sleep, ami llings itself headlong through a 
narrow, winding gorge, the sharp ledges of rock fretting it into foam, and here and 
then; dashing the water up in sprax with an im|)act tliat shivers it into beauty and 
lightens up the gloom of the beetling crags tliat overhang the torrent. .At the foot 
of the cleft the ri\er passes again into gloom and stillness, as it winds its wa\' in 
swirling circles of white-bells to the Lake bej'ond. Api>roached b\- canoe from below, 
the view is a mi'morabk' one : the torrent, lashed into foam, hurling its mass of 
gleaming water down the ravine ; the stern grandeur of the jutting cliffs, their grc-y 
walls moistened and black with the spray of ages ; the britlge, clean cut against the 
sky, poised over the roaring abyss ; and the weird pines on tlu' summit singing eternal 
dirges in harmony with the scene. The vision while it delights also awes, and 
you are glad ere long to turn from it and get into the quiet beaut\' of still water, 
the siuishine glimmering softly down on the stream, or breaking in patches of light 
through the branches of the over-arching trees. But \sv. Iea\c the river and return 1)\- 
the highway, the air tilled with the resinous odours of the sun-oiuiding |)ine. .Vs we 
re-'_nter the village a great burst of colour in the west throws a tinge of softened red 
on the dark-green of tlu^ forest, ami gilds the rixcr with a llame of light. 

On the morrow we continue our tour to the upper Lake, and board the steamer 
for Port Carling and Rosseau. Swinging from our moorings at Hracebridge, we pass 
down the M"skoka River, and, regaining the Lak(;, strike north-west for Heau.naris a;id 
Tondern Island, the Canadian Anglesea, which juts out from the u|)per water-fron: nf 
the township of Monck. Just before reachir.g Beaumaris we pass the channel that 
admits to tlu^ western estuaries of Muskoka, to the village and I'alls of Bala, and 
to the Muskosh Rixer, the outlet into the (ieorgian Bay of the waters of the Lake. 

The scenery on the western waters of Muskoka easily rivals, if it does no' 
sur|)ass, that on the south and east : and to the anghir and camper-out there open 
bewiklering attractions in the innumerabli- lakes, bays, and islands of the region. 
Here, as elsewhere on the lakes, islands of every size and form rist- in picturescjue 
beauty from their glassy setting, the largest of tlK-u' dense with forest to the water's 
edge. Many of them bear names well-known in the business and social circles of the 
Brovincial capital, and the summer-houses of their owners ]iee]) at you, in every form 
of rusticity, as you pass on the st(;amer. At Bala the Muskoka stage-road from 
Gravenhurst, on the west side of the lakes, here crosses the river and trends north- 








f the 




picruRnsQUR Canada. 

ward, by way of (lli'ii Orcliard, to I'ort Clorklmrn ami tlir head of I.aki- Joscpli, 
tluMicc to I'arry Sound and tlic (icorcjiaii Hay. A niilt- or two to tlic west of tlu- 
villai^t; tlic Moon River, one of the liiiest streams for maskinonj^re and hrook-tront, 
hramhcs off from the Miiskosii, and loses itself in the unsurveyeil townsiiip of l*'ree- 
man, or turns up, a we iirn Con^o, in tiie township of Conjjer. 

But we resuuic our upward trip on the Rosseau steamer, which hy this time has 
reached the wharf at Meaumaris. Here the scene recalls in miniature the; arrival of the 
Ramsjj^ate boat from i.ondon, the summer-lotlt^ers at the hotel close by iiavinj^ jrathered 
at the wharf, each spouse lookin_L( for her lord and master, wliile crowds of little ones, 
in every conceivable boatinj^-costume, hail chums on the sttiamer, as it tlraws in to 
discharge its living freight, together with the necessary sup[)lies for the hotel lartler. 
But presently we set off again for the upper end of tine Lake, and thread our way 
through the Seven Sister Islands, an archijielago l\ing to tlie south of Point Kaye, — 
on past Idieuild, Oni; Tree, and Horse-Shoe Islands, — into the converging channel of 
the Indian River and the lock at Port Carling, which admits to the waters of 
Rosseau and Josepii. 

A glance at Mr. Rogers' excellent maps of these lakes, which no visitor to the 
region should be without, will indicate the peculiar land conformation we art; now 
approaching, and enable the tourist to appreciate the ingenuity which ilevi.scd a route 
for the navigation of Muskoka waters. W ere the lakes such as the English or .Scotch 
tourist is familiar with, hollows or basins, of tolerable regularity of form and shape, 
the navigation, though varied and picturesque, would not be tortuous antl erratic. Put 
they are unlike anything (-Isc, and their coast-line is indented in the most irregular and 
fantastic manner. At one part of the routes we jiass a great estuary, at another a 
shallow inlet; now we round a high bluff, anon, we steam past a low marsh,- island 
and peninsula, strait and river, all meet us in succession, as if the place had been 
submerged that its elevations may form a pictorical chart, descriptive of the geograph- 
ical terms that represent the divisions of land and water. X'aried as the coast-line is 
in its configuration, the disposition of the crust-surface is hardly less unequal. The 
islands are of every height and shape : in one direction, they tower up in stupendous 
masses of black rock, with a ilark crown of green; in another, ".scorched by the 
lightning's livid glare," their only covering is the gaunt spectres of burnt timber. 
Nothing in the district can surpass in effect the beauty of some of these little island.s, 
which N.iture does its best to clotht-, but which man, in his heedlessness, often 
allows to become food for the flames. The devastation caused by fire in the bush is 
one of the most melancholy sights which the lover of Nature can witness. A hot 
summer scorches the edge of the woods, and if the fall be dry, a fire is readily 
started, which will run through the bush with amazing rapidity — the thick carpet of 
dry leaves and the fresh cuttings of the lumberman acting like a powder-train in 

(//■OA'd/.i.v /;./]', ./A/; j7/y- McskOK.i lakhs. 


i>rnitii\i; tlic wliolc n.-^non. In Muskoka many sciuarc miles of hcaiiliftil forest annually 
fall a |)rey lo llu: ilevoiii-in_<,' element. Tliis with care mi^^iu In; axoiiled, and the 
timber preserved for siielier anil ornamentation, and the important atmospheric purposes 
wliich the forests so well serve. When the sportsman and cann^r-ont can appreciate 
the economic .ulvanlaLjcs of j^q-owing timber, and realize the loss to a settler, even 
where there is much forest, of a burnt bush, scrupulous pains will be taken to ex- 
tinguish lire on (putting a camp, liven the settler has need to be more careful than 
he is, for lu; has been known to let firt' run through a bush, to sa\(' the toil of 
chopi)ing, rt^gardless of tlu' injury he is iloing to the soil. llis greed, too, has some- 
times to be put under restraint, when the lumberman offers him the bait which is to 
denude the land of its glory and the farm of its wealth. 

But we are recalled from this tligression by the; steamer's whistle as \\v. approach 
I'ort Carling, the Ciovernnu"' i lock on the Indian Ri\cr, which gi\cs access to the 
waters f)f Rosseau. The village is perchetl on a m iss of l.aurentian rock, the " Polar 
Star Hotel," close b\', reminding us of the northern latitudes we are now 
coming to. The lock has evitlently been a ditlicult bit of excavating, and Irish muscle 
and Irish dynamite lia\e here been put to legitimate and laudable use. A fe'w stores 
and houses, ami two or three churches, which \eritabl) have been built upon a rock, 
comprise the buildings of tlu; place. An unpretentious swing-bridge o\cr the lock 
supplies the link of connection between Port Carling and Mracebridge. The scenery in 
the neighbourhood is wikl ami uncouth, though there is a pretty bj-path through the 
woods to Rockhurst, o[)posite Port Sandfield. 

Passing through the locrc at Port Carling, the steamer traverses a fuiely wooded 
basin, in which there is good fishing ; and a sharp tiu'n brings us into the upper 
ent.ance of the Indian Rivc;r, and another bend leads into Lake Rosseau. Here we 
come to what many consider the |)rettiest part of the lakes. Prom Haker's Island, 
round to Fairy Land Island and the " Eagle's Nest," and on to Port .Sandfield, Lake 
Rosseau is fairly gemmed with a profusion of islets, many of which are owneil by 
Toronto citizens, of known aquatic tastes, and whose summer cottages peer out of their 
sylvan settings at every bend of the Lake. As we pass the foot of this channel, on 
our way to Wmilermere, the c;vening sun pa\'es it with gold : if i,'\-er llu:re was an Eden, 
we think, we must find it here. Seldom has our (^ye lit upon a lovc^lier scene, 
and never, to our mind, has Nature made a more effective use of her materials. Sky, 
and land, and water, here? all combine — as we ha\e often scei-> — to luake a perfect 
picture, the effect of which, particularly when the wootls are ablaze with tlu; colouring 
of a Canadian autumn, is ahnost inilescribable. Here the hemlocks mass up, in spots 
familiar to us, with an effect that wouki lavish an artist's he.irt, th('ir lighter colours 
and nuyre graceful forms relieving the sombre character of the intermingling spruce 
and pine. 



/'/cTiJ<j-:s(jL ■/■: c. i.v. id. i. 

W w< 



I'rcsiiuK' wo toiu'Ii at W'indcntnTc, \vlii( li has no \isil>|c attractlim-. to fciiiind one 
of its I'jiirlisli namesake, llioe^h, some little disianic back of it, is an allmin;^ sheet 
of water, hcariiiL; the nauK; ol I'hree Mile i.ake. I'Or the next hour, uc skirt the 
eastern llank of lii^;' Island, uiiicli looks .is if it fallen .uiidenlaily fidn) the shonliler 
of some ;,;iant aiolt, and h,id esca|ied liein;^ chopiieil inio the little islets whith siicw 
the l-ak(; wilii their tree-tufted beauty. The coast-iine on th( rinht. as we proceed 
norlh\v.ii-d, presinxcs its pleasiiij^ irr(;;,;ularity. .Mid in p.irts is (juite preii). jiiitinL^ out, 
on the left, is the peninsula, with its wharf and post-ol'tice, of juddhav<'n, ,ind a little 
higher up, on the ri,u;ht, is .Skeleton ii.iy. the tiilrc^oi for tlx- waters of the lieauliful 
lake and river of that name exteiidiii;^ some miles inland. I he lishinn' <>n Imth lake 
and ri\'er is the delight of those who ha\'e l>i;en horn under the ( unsteliation of I'isces. 
\\\\^\ the reL;ii>ii, wiih the i>vosseau ki\cr hi^hei' up, is the frecpient i-esort of \isitors to 
thest' Iii^h l.uittides. ( )n .Skeleton River are tln' beautiful Minneh.di.i I'.ills, which are 
well worth a \'isit. 

lUit wi: appi-oach the of the I.ake and the hii^di wooded liluffs which L;i\(' it 
character and beauty. '\\\>- dark sh.idows of e\-enini; h,i\c fallen ,is we approach 
Rosse;ui. but suddeiiK' we catch sIl^Iu of a i.dilter of liolus that bespeak comfort and 
jrood clu'cr ii. the h<)stelr\' of Pratt. It is said that amusing;', and sometimes pepper\-, 
coil trcti III f<< aie' the result of the linisi/itirir of the pi-oprietor of this hot<'l. Hence, it 
is well to know that, in the " Monteith Ibuise." there is another icsoit, if it is the 
humour of the owner of " The Russc:au " not to suffer invasion from the fashion of 
the south. 

The visitoi" will here naturally seek to note his surrotmdini^s. In the season, 
ho can liardK' come to so fa\'ourit(' a resort and fail to meet with some on" he knows. 
Should he not ha\-e this luck, he will lind atonement in the scene out-of-iloors. ()nl\- 
an .artist's t-ye could ha\(> chosen the spot. I he features ol the scene are few and 
simpK;. The water, the sk\'. and the distant woods. IJesides these, there ai'e the 
usual accessories of a Muskok.i wate|-inL,r-pl,ice - th(; shelving rocks, and the musliiu.'il 
womanhood that jjcople litem ; th( boats, and the voiintj paddlers th;U swarm about 
ihem : the islands, aiul the boatiuL,'' and tishiiiL; parties that resort to them. ,\lread\'. 
there <;o three boat-loads to "do" Sh.idow l\i\cr! Leasini; the wharf, two or three 
craft are h()islin>( s.iil for the IrollinL^-lishin;,^- of the Lak<-. .Xpiudachim^, is ;i boatful 
of campers tome to the villaye to fora;.^e. 1 lie scene in all tlireclions is full of l)la\ 
and mo\ement. 

Animated for the tiiiK- as is the seem; we ha\(; been lookint;' at. its winKrr ;>.si)ect 
is a sh,u-p contrast. \'et it is sol.iciiiiL; to le.irn that the spot. riMiiote as it is from 
civilization, is still within reach of the outer world. Rosseau is oik; of ilu; most 
northerly links in electric chain that j^drds the elobe. though, with the solitudes 
about, we little expect the place to be reached b\- the hand-bell of Commerce. Rut 

<;/-:ohu;/.\\ /,•./)•, ix/y rm-: McsKnK.i i..\ki-:s. 



the villajje is as the horn on tlie garments of the north. .Away inland stretclics a 

i<inj:^ilom in winuM- ini^lit be ruled I)\- a Jarl-Kin<; of \or\va\', and in summer 

by a successor to tb.(, I )oir(;s of N'enice. In tiie I'arry .Sound and Muskoka districts 

there an; some seventy townships, coxeriiv^' an area of six or seven thousand scjuare 

miles. Of these townships, less than seven are watered by the Muskoka Lakes : we 

are therefore only on the frontier of a realm of solitude. The colonization road 


j'icruR/-:sQi E C.I X.I/). I. 

to the Maj^rnct<nvan, and on to Lake Nipissinj^^, uhicli run'; almost due noiili from 
Rossraii, j(ivi;s accfss to miicli of this tt-rritory, and is now incrcasinjjly frc(iucnt(!il by 
the tourist, as well as \>\ the lumlxrman and .cttlcr. Tlic Ma^nictcwan rcj^ion is tlu' 
Mecca of sportsnuM), for lien-, in ia\isii plunly, is to 1)(; found every varii-ty of lisli 
and j,Mmc. 'I'lu' riv> raviTscs an imnicnsc tract of country, and, with its .il'tUK'nts, 
may \)c saiil to water iialf the district of I'arry Sound. It is ilie ol)jectivc |)()int of 
all lovers of tin; j;entle craft, ami no water teems more full\' with tisli. Pickerel, ten 
or twelve pouiuls in weij^dit, speckh-il trout, from two to four, and liass, from four to 
eijfht, can be caught in tlu; streams of the region, while the sport can he varied 
1)\- the use of the ^nm. There is excellent duck shooting;, and, in season, the best 
of moos(; and deer. 'I'o insure; ijood sport a j^aiidc; should, of course, he of the part;, . 
In the neighbouriiootl of Rosseaii one can usuall)' he hiretl 

"will) kiiDWS tlie Ijush 
As llic seam.iii knows ilie sea." 

To return from tlie Ma;j;netew;in rejjifMi, the visitor may either retrace his steps 
on the Nipissinj; hij^hway, hy wa\' of Sci^uin halls, to Kosseau ; or, he may continue 
his canoe voyai^^e westward on the Mai^netewan River until he reaches the intersection 
of the Great Northern Road, in tin; nei^dd)ourhood of Whitestone Lake. Here he will 
he temi)ted to tarry, making,' his headijuarters at Dunchurch, to enjoy the s])ort at the 
Narrows, either of herrin^^ and pickerel on the lake, or, if the season l)e advanced, of 
deer in the woods. Round tiiis neij^hhourhooil the deer seem to have their favourite 
haunts, tiioui^di the hrulal system, not unknown to the " Dunkirkers," of herdinL,r them 
into "yards" ami km.ckinsr them on the lu^aii, should make the ileer chary of 
freciuentinL,^ the plac<; ami of furnishing venison for the pot-iumter. 

I'rom Dunchurcii, the tourist ma)' tlesc(Mid to the Georj.>ian Hay in two easy stajjes, 
first, by the colonization road to the villajjje of McKellar, and secondly, from that 
Venice of the North, by a series of natural canals and the .Seguin River, to I'ar y 
Sountl and the Canadian Adriatic. 

'I'o the sportsman, if an explorer, there are two other ways of repxhiiig the cuter 
world from the Magnetewan. First, he may go north fron\ the watt;r-stretchcs that link 
the townships whose names are dear to the student memory, — of Chapman and 
Croft, — until he comes to Commanda. From this point his rout.' will lie, by lake and 
creek of the same name, to the I'rench River, and so on to the Georgian Bay ; or, 
proceeding still northward from Commanda, he may make for Lake Nipissing, thence 
down the Mattawan River by the old trapper's route to the ( )ti awa. Whichever is 
his choice, despite the solitude, he may be assured of both jjlea-uire and sport. If, as 
cicerone, we are responsible, however, for his safe-keeping, we shall conduct him by 
the speediest route to Rosseau and to Pratt. 



riic route li(imc\\;irtl from Kossciui may either load us directly down the lakes to 
Graveiihiirst ; or, tai<in^,' the steamer as far as Port Carlinjf, we may there transfer 
ourselves to the " Keno/.ha, " which plys on Lake Josepli, and willi it proceed to Port 
Cocki)urn, at the licad of tlu' Lake. 

Mmerjfin^,' once more from the Indian Kivi'r, on the latter excursion, we round the 
peninsula, whose water-front in Rosseau is Ixslrewn so charminj,dy with islands, and 
reach Port Sandliekl anil the (iovernnient canal that luls liie sand-har \\lii(h tlu; 
waters of Joseph and Kosseau hav(; jointly thrown up to esiranj^e tiie lakes. Pass- 
in;^' throu),di the canal, at which there is an e.xcellenl summer hotel, with ^ood lishini,^ 
in the neii;hl)ourhood, we ai^ain proceed northwani, thou<.fh iheic is little to interest 
until we reach Hemlock Point, the; woodlantl home of the hydro^M'apher of the laki s. 
Heri! Lake Joseph be;iins to fascinate, and, as it broadens, to enclasp in its jewelled 
embrace a ^^ilaxy of islands, a summer sojourn upon which must be a perpetual and 
delirious pic-nic. 

Threailinj^ our way through these clumps of i^reen in a settint^ of siKcr, for the 
wiilers of Joseph wi.' unlike those of Muskoka and Rosseau, whicii are dark and 
tawnj-, we come to the lonjr water-lane of Little Lake Jose|)li, and to the islands of 
the Fonemah ^roup that st.iiul warder at its entrance. The larj^'er of the .Ljroup, called 
Chief Island, is owneil b\' a xcleran pioneer of the lakes, who, it is safe to say, 
extracts more pleasure from his domain than do tlu; collective crowns of Polynesia. 
Just beyond this <,'roup lies another, the apple of the eye of the .Muskoka Club, an 
early orj^anization of campers, whose advent ami many summers' \ isits to tlu; res^ion 
haunt the memory of the discoverers of the j^^roup with yet unchilled delii^dit. The 
uroup is called " Yohocucaba," a strange mouthful, derived from the fusion of the fust 
letters in the surnames of the original owners. Passing this, and Morris and Macl(;n- 
nan Islands, which nestle under tlu; lea of lupdty Crt;st, an hour's steaming iirings us 
to Port Cocki)urn aiul the head of Lake Joseph, Here the tourist will lind comforta- 
ble quarters, ami a vista of rare beauty looking down the Lake. 

As a summer resort. Port Cockburn vies with Rosseau in attraiting to the region 
those who have been accustomed to spend the holiday months by the " multitudinous 
seas." Moth resorts are within easier hail of the cities and towns of ( )nt;uio than 
are the watering-places of the St. Lawrence or the coast of Maine. There may not 
be the same tonic to the system as in a sojourn by the sea, but the change is delight- 
ful, and there is no end of sport. In many respects, Lakt; Jos(;ph is nujre attractive 
than the other lakes, and, but for the many burnt islands that disfigure its upper 
waters, would decidedly have the advantage. 

The stage-road fron'. Port Cockburn to Parry Sound is rough but picturesque, and 
skirts stretches of water, which freely meander through Foley Township, alternating with 
belts of large oak, birch, and red pine. The lumbering operations of Parry Sound and 



neighbourhood are greatly facilitated by the waters which vein the region in every di- 
rection, but at times they successfully detract from the effects which Nature strives to 
produce in her water-courses. But for this, Parry Harbour and Sound would be an 
unrivalled possession ; though, once out on tlie Georgian Hay, Nature asserts herself 
in regal fashion. The coast-line from Byng Inlet at the mouth of the Magnetewan, 
or rather from the French River, a little to the north, down to the outlet of the 
Severn, in the Matchedash Bay, is chafed and frayed in a marvellous manner, and 
ten thousand islands are said to bestrew the ]jath of the steamer from Parry Sound 
to Penetanguishcne. The calamitous story of the early PVcnch Missions at Pene- 
tanguishene, and the British naval occupation of place in the opening years of 
the present century, have already been touched upon in our pages, and need not 
now detain us. Both Penetanguishene and its rival, Midland City, are rapidly 
making new history for the region, aided by the railways which at each of these 
points t.ip the waters and the commerce of the inner shores of Lake Huron. Going 
south by the Midlani! Line, the tourist can diversify the route which brought him 
to the district we have been describing, and, by way of Orillia, Beaverton, and 
Lindsay, make a descent upon the picturesque scenery that lies to the nortli-east of 
the Provincial Capital and in the lines of travel that wend sea-ward. In this new 
region, if our pen has been faithful, the reader of these pages will be slow to dismiss 
from ids mind the beauties of Muskoka, or to forget, if he has ever visited the spot, 
the most attractive of Ontario's forest shrines, encircled 

" liy tile laiigliiiij; tides that lave 
Those Edeiis of the Nortlieiii" 



















A r the dawn of our Provincial History, — two hundred and odd jears ago, — when the 

■*- -^ first h'ght was i)rcaking on Lake Ontario, joii migiit have disco\ered an Indian 

village a few miles to the west of W'hitby Harbour. The village looked out upon a 

wide and land-locked mere, which every summer was fringed anew with floating milfoil, 

and embroidered with pond-lilies. This peaceful bayou was so little moved by the 

Great Lake, that the stormiest wrath outside awoke but a soft response within. It was 

a welcome retreat in wikl weather for lake-birds wiien "blown aljout the skies." 

Sedges and sweet-llag, ami tall reed-n:-v:e so concealed the entrance that it was known 

only to the Seneca Indians of the village within. Oiit of this quii^t bayou Pickering 

Harbour has in our day been fornK.'d, and the (Mitrance has been dredged, and widened, 

and lighteil. Hut, two centuries ago, these blue lake waters had not yet been vexed 

l)y merchantmen ; and a sufficient beacon was found in the natural features of the 







land. When twili<jht was cominj;; on, tlic rctiirninjr water-fowl and canoes would seek 
the low, recedini( shore midway between Scarboro' Heights and Raby Head, —that 
glooming water of Moore's lines, — 

'When- the blue hills of old Toronto shed 
Their cveiiiri(r shadows o'er Oiuario's bed." 

In 1660 th'- Indians of this shore would have called the village that lay beyond 
them to lh(! west not Toronto, but Tejoyagon. This we know from the contemporary 
maps of Sulpician Missionaries — the lirst Europeans who explored and mapped the 
north shore. " Toronto " was then applied to the water that is now Lake Simcoe ; 
afterwards, by extension, the name of the lake describeil also the western portage that 
led thither ; and fmally, in the fur-trading era, it described the southern end of the 
portage, which, as early as 1673, is described i)y La Salle as the chief trading place of 
the Ottawas with the Northern Iroquois. In reducing the scale of the early maps some 
geographers carelessly neglected the precise sites of Indian villages; and succeeding 
geographers, having at hand neither the explorers' maps nor narratives, attempted 
by conjecture to restore these sites. French fur-traders hail meantime transferred 
"Toronto" to the southern end of the Simcoe portage. The true Indian name, 
Teyoyagon, l>eing thus cut away from its moorings, drifted down the lake, and stranded 
at Port Hope. Hut Port Hope had already an Indian name, Ganeraske, which, being 
now dislodged, floated ilown th(' lake and was cast ashore at Trenton. By i 744, Bellin, 
the Hydrographer to the I'rcMich Xa\y, found the chart of the lakes in hopeless dis- 
order. Disregarding, therefore, altogether the maps of Sanson, Coronelli, Delille, and 
their plagiarists, he went at once to the archives of the Dejjartment of Marine, and 
collated the original maps and reports of exploration, Hellin had also the great 
advantage of Charlevoix's recent travels, which had been written, compass in hand, and 
after observations taken for latitude. So Bcllin's Carte dcs Lacs leads us back once 
more to soliil ground ; it also vindicates the general accuracy of the Sulpician maps 
of 1669-70. 

The .Senecas of Pickering Harbour called their village Gandatsetiagon ; so the 
Sulpician Trouvc, who visited the place in 1670, represents the sound. Phonetic 
variants of the name app<,'ar in contemporary maps, and in official documents that 
passed between Louis the I'ourteenth and his Canadian Executive. The tribal home- 
stead of these Senecas, as of the four other Iroquois Nations, lay southward beyond 
the Great Lake, and within tlu; vast forest that stretched from the Niagara to the 
Hudson. This colony of warrior-sportsmen was doubtless attracted northwards by the 
sheltered shore and the easy landings, as well as by the endless fishing and deer-stalking 
there to be had. To the west were the well-wooded Heights of Scarborough, which 





early I'n.'iich explorers called f.cs lirandcx luons. This the Loyalists enj;;lishecl into 
"Tile I ii.i^h I, amis," so lliat tlie stream tlowiii}^ throiij,fh the I leitjjhts is still called 
'• 1 Ii<rhlaiul Creek." A litlli' to tiie west of the Sen<!ca vMla^fe was a stream that gave 
kindly slielter to tlistressetl canoes; and so hy Indians of the next centiir)', and of a 
different race, it was nametl Kixtabokokon!<.\ or the " River of Easy Entrance." In 
makin_Lj its way to the lake it pierced a hill of red tenacious clay, which sufficiently 
coioretl its waters to justif\' thi; old I'"rench name, Riviirc /\'o»<;r. In his attempt to 
reproduce in Upper Canaiia the east coast of England, Simcoe re-christened this stream 
the Nen, just as he had converted S/. John into the I lumber, and La Lirandc 
Riviirc into the Ouse. But, like the Grand River, the Rouge fortunately survived 
the palimpsest maps of Governor Simcoe ; it is still the Rouge, and the name is in- 
teresting as the sole trace now remaining on this north-west shore, of the old 
Sulpician Mission and of Louis the I'ourteenth's domain. 

Eastwaril of the Seneca village llowed into the lake a considerable stream, which 
for about a century has borne the name of Duffin's Creek. An early I'rench name 
was Riviere ait Saiiinoii : and tiie name was well deserved. A roll of birch-bark, 
lighted and thrust into a forked branch in the bow of a canoe, brought within reach of the 
fishing-spear shoals of the choicest lake-salmon. Then short portages through a famous 
deer-park led up from tiie Whitby shore to tlie bass-fishing on Lakes Scugog and 
Simcoe, anticipating th<; railroads that two centuries afterwards would lead the wayfarer 
over the same trails to Port Perry and Beaverton. The generation and race of fish- 
ermen whom Champlaiii, in 1615, found between these lakes had been swept away in 
the Irocpiois invasion, but the conquerors, no doubt, deigned to imitate the old ways of 
the neighbouriiood. They would encamp at the lake-outlets and ambuscade the fish 
witliin sucli osier-weirs as gave Lake Simcoe its early P'rench name of Lac aux Claies, 
or "Hurdle Lake." In " Osiiawa," the name of the busy manufacturing town between 
Whitby and Howmanville, there is still a twilight memory of the ancient days, and of 
the old portage that led up from this shore to Scugog Lake; iov Os/iazaa mcdWii "The 

The Iroquois confederates had now beaten down all resistance from native races; 
they had become the tyrants of the Upper St. Lawrence, of both shores of the Great 
Lake, and the magnificent peninsula which in our day forms Western Ontario. Erom 
the Great Cataraqui Creek to the Grand River Portage the Five Nations occupied 
a chain of outposts, whose sites foreshadowed the future Kingston, Napanee, Belleville. 
Port Hope, Whitby, Toronto, Hamilton, and Brantford. Lake Ontario was now in 
fact, as it was in contemporary Erench maps, the "Lake of the Iroquois." A dread- 
ful retribution had been exacted for the foray which Champlain half a century ago led 
into the heart of Iroquois Land. The Hurons who were his allies on that fatal 
expedition had been exterminated or dispersed ; their corn-fields and populous villages 



were now dcserteil wastes. Gone, too, were their stalwart kinsmen, the Neutrals am! 
the Tobacco Indians, who hat! dared to shelter some of the llurons in their last 
agony. And vanisheil were the Aljron(|uin races who dwelt between the l.ake of tiie 
Manitoii and tiie River of tiu; Ottawas ; e\en tiu; dread Nipissings themselves, that 
nation of sorcerers who spent their livt.'s in coinnuinion witii okics, when not servinj^ at 
gruesome Feasts of the Dead. Magicians tiiougii they were, the)- could not turn aside 
the evil eye of the Iroquois. Like their Huron allies, tin; Nipissings had already 
become mere historical shadows, haunting at early dawn tiie lake that still bears their 
name. The Jesuit Missions on Lake Huron and Georgian Hay and Lake Simcoe 
were now silent and blackened ruins, — mere iieaps of embers in tlu; midst of rank 
jungles that once were smiling fields and gardens. Several of the most eminent of 
the Jesuit missit)naries had fallen in the effort to Christianize Western Canada ; Gamier 
had received from a stone-axe his coHp-di'-s;i ace ; the fires of Brebeuf's martyrdom lit 
up the woods of Medonte. 

I'Lxultant in their victory over the native races, the Ircxpiois seriousl)' menaceil the 
French colonists on tiie St. Lawrence. F'requent attempts were made to conciliate or 
to divide the Imvc Nations. In 1654, tiiat is within five years of th(! massacres at the 
Huron Missions, a Jesuit was found bold enough to umlertake an embassy to the 
stronghold of the Onondagas, the torturers and murdert^rs of his brother Jesuits. This 
Iroquois Nation dwelt, according to the journal wi^icli bather Le Moine kept of his 
mission, five days' journey back from the south-east angle of Lake Ontario. Their 
canton inclosed the now famous salt-deposit, which Le Moine was the first of Europeans 
to visit. He recovered what he tells us were treasures more precious than a silver or 
gold mine, — Brebeuf's New Testament, and Garnier's little Book of Devotion. With 
mingled joy and grief he recognized Christian women of the Huron race, some of 
whom in happier days he had himself instructed at the Huron Mission. They were 
now wearing out their lives in s(>rvituile. Among their fellow-captives was his ancient 
host of the Tobacco Indians; and a girl of the Neutral Nation. On the friendly assur- 
ances of the Onondagas, confirmed by tlu; usual exchange of wampum belts, a b'rench 
settlement was begun in their midst; also a number of Hurons, with their wi\es and 
children, came up from tli(; .St. Lawrence, and accepted the urgent invitation of the 
Onondagas to r(;side in their canton. On the 3rd .\ugust, 1657, a general massacre of 
the Christian llurons took place; it was now evident that the French Mission had 
beeiv tolerated onh' as a decoy. The scene of this massacre seems to have been the 
very Onondaga town that forty-two years before witnessed the assault and the disastrous 
repulse of Champlain and his Hurons. It was surely glutting even Iroquois revenge 
to entice the French and the poor remnant ef their ancient allies to this fatal spot, 
and prepare for both a common slaughter! I'ortunately the Quebec Hurons had not 
yet accepted Onondaga hospitality ; this delay saved them and afforded the French 



scltlcrs tinu- to 
plan tlicir es- 
cape. Tlic wild 
Iiulian revel 
which was to 
be but the pre- 
lude to t h e 
French m a s - 
sac re ; the 
stealthy with- 
drawal of the 
intended vic- 
tims at the 
dead of a win- 
ter's nitfht ; 
the struggle 
of those forlorn refugees to 
reach the outlet of Lake 
Ontario ; their winter descent 
of the St. Lawrence ; their 
terrible experience of the 
Cornwall Rapids, — then for the 
first time descended by luu'o- 
peans, — all form one of tlie 
most tiirilling passages in our 

early Provincial annals. 

The first exploration of 
the northern shore of Lake 
Ontario arose out of an 
interesting group of e\'ents. 
When, in 1661, the great Col- 
bert succeeded Fouquet in the 
councils of Louis XIV, the ad- 
ministration of Canadian affairs 
had reached the last extreme 
of weakness ami disorder. 
Montreal now barely kept the 
Iroquois out of its streets, 
and during the preceding sum- 



incr ami aiitiiinn Oiichoc itself had closely investcMJ. Tlie civil adtninistration was / 
in open conllict with the ecclesiastical. 'iO save the colony from aiinihiiatioii, Laval 
himself woiiM '^o over to I'rance and appeal to the compassion of the \<>unL; monarch. 
|iist then, at tiu: touch of Colbert's jfeniiis, I'rance had awoke; had lieconie conscious 
of her wonderful powers, ami was entiM'in^ on the most brilliant ipoch in her history. 
It was part of Colbert's policy to strenj^lhen and extend the colonial system, so that 
in the nc'W Com|)trolU;r-General Laval fonntl a warm friend of Canada. It so happened, 
loo, that the statesman's hand was forced by Lni^lish a^jfression. Charles 11 luul 
claimed the Dutch possessions in North America; In; had vwn by anticipation be- 
'^towetl them on his brother, the Duke of \'ork and .Albany. In 1O64 an luii^lish 
fleet a|)peared off the shore of New Netherland ; New .\mst(;rdam became New York, 
and l''(M-t ()ran!.,re became Fort Albany. \ I most simultaneously, the Lnjjlish colonists 
took the Iro(iuois under their protection, which, under the circumstances, was almost 
equivalent to a declaration of war aj^ainst the I'rench Canadians. On the followinjj 
sprinq; the; Caritrnan-Salieres rej^nment was despatched to Canaila ; forts were durinjf 
the summiM- (greeted on the Richelieu, anil a winter cami)ai<^n was carried into the 
heart of the Mohawk country. The viirour and rapitlity of these military movements 
overawed the Iro([uois; one Nation after another maile proposals for a treaty, and 
in 1667 a j^eneral pacification ensued, which lasted for a dozen years. 

It was iluriny; this i)r(;cious interval of peace that Lak(; Ontario was first opened 
to !•" reach exploration and settlement; that the; north shore was planted with Sulpician 
Missions; that La Salle discovered the Niaj^ara, and penetrated to Hurlinjrton Hay; 
that Jolliet addeil to >;eoL;ra[)hy on: Western Peninsula antl the shore line from the 
(irand River to the .Sault Ste. Marie; that Vnxl l-rontenac and I-'ort Niaj^ara sprang 
up; that the Griffin inaugurated the comnKMTe of the (ireat Lakes. TIumi, too. it was 
that Lakes Michigan and Sujjerior were explored ; that the great copper mines were 
discovered; that Jolliet fouml the Mississippi ; that the iM-ench established themselves 
on Hudson's Bay. All this intense activity was created, directed, sustained by that 
silent, toiling, morose man of the hollow eyes and l)lack shaggy brows, who, while 
insisting that lie was a mere subaltern, governed the most powerfid kingdom in the 
world; who ot'ficially reproved Frontenac for styling him "My Lord" instead of "Sir," 
though Colbert was nevertheless by sheer force of intellect the overdortl of the Cirand 
Monarque himself. As accounts of explorations in Western Canada are reatl at the 
French Court, we watch with eager interest the gradual uprising of the mist that so 
long veiled the fair features of our Province. As the maps and reports arrive, we see 
coming into view the Rapids of the St. Lawrence, the Thousand Islands, the gateway 
of a "reat fresh-water sea, Kingston Harbour, the romantic Bay of Oiiinte, then a 
panorama of bays, streams, wooded headlands ; and, back from the lake-shore, a chain 
of lovely sylvan lakes gleaming through vistas of majestic forest. As the great 

; 'JV 



J'/C /'(■/< JuSQUJi L.I.V.I/).!. 

ininislcr pci isi;s tlic tlcs|)atclu's 
)f laloii, C'oiiriellcs, aiul I'lniilc- 
lac, lie S('L'S jfrowiiij^ iip Ixyoiul 
ic oci'im a lieu ami a fairer 
l*'i'aiuc, and rvm his cold tcm- 
)cramciU is liicd to cntliiisiasm. 
lie often writes on tlie niarein an 
eni|>liatic: " hon !" or 
lui ri'iords liisdeternii- 
nation to st'i-iij^tluMi 
i tile iiands of the 

Canadian cxetiitive. 
i lie cl('H|)atcli('s, with 
Colljert's autograph 
notes, are still pre- 
served in tile arcliixcs 
at I'aris ; hut in the 
lapsi! of t'Ncn two 
centuries how faded 
alike are the states- 
man's handwritinj^ 
and his Colonial Em- 
pire ! 

I'roni Concert's in- 
structions to the In- 
tendant Talon, and 
still morc! from his 
cipher correspondence 
with l-'rontenac, it is 
evident that it was 
the policy of the iM'ench 
Court to hold back the Jesuits 
from Western Canada, and 
push forward the Sulpicians. 
In the autumn of 1668, two 
Sulpicians, MM, Tenelon and 
Trouve, established a mis- 
sion at a village of the 
Cayugas on the Bay of 








CKNTRAI. OXr.lh'/O. .'..-y 

Qiiintc'. 'I'liis M. I'\'n<'lon has often liccn inistakin for the ((Icliialcil Arcliliisliop >f 
Camliray. Tlu' CaDadian tnissionary's lalioiirs in (Cntial ()niaiio aii- ( onuncriior ilid 
l)y till' rciiinciicc of llic nami' I'cmlon in llic connly of \'i(loria. ( )n llic eastern 
eil^i- of I'Cnclon rownsliip a ri\cr of tlie same name discliarjrcs lie o\eillo\\ ol 


i;i;WMAN\ii.i.i,, ikoM I HI wisr. 

Cameron Lake into Stuft^eon Lake, and at the liead of tlie \\\fv there is a pretty 
cascade which lias sliared its nanu! witli llie |)r()s|)eroiis \iMa>^e of I'eiielon I'ails. 
Under the inisapprehensioii ahove noticeil a \ilkiL;e towards ilie sonth-west of the town- 
sliip lia.i been calUnl Cuiit/irdv. The liistorical error iniphed in tliis name orij^^inated 
with easy-j,f<)ini,r Father Hennepin; then it passed into Canlinal liausset's /,//i- ()/ 
Archbishop Fc::i''oii. Our Canadian Abbe was not tlie Abbe benelon who wrote 
TcU'maqite and becanK; Archbishop of Caml)ray ; tlie missionary-explorer of our lake- 
shore was the archbishop's elder brother. They were both sons of Count Fenelon- 
Salignac, though by different marriages. Moth bore tlu; name of I'rancis, thoui^h the 
younger bore the addition Arinand ; both entereil the order t)f St. .Sulpice ; and both 
looked wistfully to Western Canada as the Mission-Land of Promise. The younger 
Fenelon, being of delicate constitution, was dissuaded from following in his brother's 


/•/( • 77 '.\'/uS(Jf ■/:' CAA.U>.L 

stops ;iii(I iiiiiliT- 
takiniL; tile |)riva- 
ticiiis ami ilanj,ferH 
of a life ainonj^ 
the Norlliciii IiD- 

(|ll(>|s. W llilc tlU! 

elder liidtlicr was 
teailiin^ the In- 
dian iliildnn of 
our W'liilily slioio, 
thr \ouiij;fr was 
teatliini^ Louis 
Xl\'s ^ranclson 
and appar- 
ent ; wliili' the 
filler was endur- 
ing more than the 
toils of Uljsscs, 
the youiij^er was 
inditins^r tin: Ad- 
riiihiiis 0/ Tele- 
iinu/nis. \'oun}f 
Hurj^umiy was ex- 
plosi\e j'noiij^h ; 
but the heir of a 
Seneca Chief iiad 
a more xolcanic 
temper than any 
prince in Christen- 
dom. Leaving the 
new mission of 
Quinte, Abbe 
Fenelon — first of 
all Europeans — 
exfjlored the lake- 
shore, and reached 
the Seneca vil- 
lage that over- 
looked Pickering 



I larlmiir. \\\\\\\ liidi.m n;imc was then lioriic hy lliat (|iiict mcri- we know not; hut 
lliciicfforwanl for two (•cntiirics it was " I'nnchman's Fby." 'Ihrrc I'rtiLloii s|i(iii the 
last inoiitlis nf i6(),, ;ni(l the early inonlhs of 1670. I'Miiratioiiist as well as cvaiij^M'- 
list, liis lalioiirs w((iilil cMcnd frniii tiu' villa.L(<' mitwanU to tin- lo(l),n-s that lay 
scaltiM-ial in tlii; great wiMcrncss. !!<• was undouhtcdly the lirsl irai lur ol lunguayL-s 






A (ii.iMi'SK OK roKi noi'i;. 

in the County of Ontario this yoiincf scion of most ancient French noliililx- and he 
had for puijils as lithe, and liiiL;ht-e\(!(l, and kcu-n-witted youn^ Canadians as e^cr wcic. 
Hut wlu'tluT AI)I)c I'eni'lon's lahours foreshadowed I'ickerinn College, or the \\ hiiliy 
Ladies' Coilei^e, or th(.' Collei^iatc Institute' of Whitby, or tiie lli,L;h School of 
Oshawa,— is a (jnestion thai we must reluctantly leave to local anti(|uarians. 

l-roni a political \iew as well as from an educational ;ind tHclesiast'cal, this 
Sulpician enli'rprise was interest in;;-. Richeli<'u and his s^cneration of I'i'ench states- 
men hat! hoped for j^reat national ad\anta,Li;es from the labours of tin- Recollects 
and the Jesuits in Upper Canada. lUit now, ,ift<'r half a century ot most de\()ted 
toil, l'"ranc(! possessed but the most shailowy influence over tlu; native races. Her 
Indian allies had Ixhmi exterminatiul ; her fur-tra<li: was all but ruineil. Talon, C"our- 
celles, and l-'rontenac all blaineil the J(;suits for their impolicy in teaching- th<; natives 
ihnniLjh the Indian dialects, instead of mouldinij^ them through the l-'rench lans^uage 
to the service of France. The Jesuits themselvt:s were perplexed at the dis.istrous 
issue of all their heroism and sulTerin,<;s ; they laid their failure to the abnor- 

;t I' 





ma! activity of the Powers of Darivness. Botii parties went too far for a reason. 
They overlooked the enormous chasm that separates civilized life from barbarism, — a 
chasm which, as Canadians have since learned, centuries of earnest toil are insufficient 
to bridije over. Louis the I'ourteenth's pride was touchetl by this Indian prol)lem. To 
him, and his ministers, and courtiers, it was inconceivable that Iroquois witrwams 
could hold out a>;ainst brench civili^iation, when even the Turk had bowed in its pres- 
ence. The new Canadian policy, as e.xpounded by Colbert, was to make the b'rench 
langua<;e tiie sole means of communication, and, by this means, "detach the native 
races from their savaj^^e customs;" in short, to fuse aborigines and colonists "into one 
people and one rac(', having but one law and one master." M. Olier had in 1645 
founded at Paris the Order of St. Sulpice, and a branch of his Seminary had been 
already established at Montreid. Still unwedded to precedents or traditions, Sulpicians 
were thought to be more receptive than older orders of the principles that were to gov- 
ern the new colonial policy. Young men of rank and fortune had already enrolled them- 
selves as students of the Seminary, and it was expected that they and their friends 
would defray the expenses of the Mission without l)urdening the public exchequer. 
The headquarters of the new enterprise were to be on the peninsula which now forms 
our County of Prince Etlward. A colony of Cayugas had established themselves on 
the lakeward side of the peninsula, within the cove which, in our time, is called West 
Lake, but by the earliest French explorers was named after the Indian village Lac dc 
KciiIl'. In the lapse of two centuries this name has Ijcen converted into the Bay of 
Quinte, and transfiMTed to tiie romantic water that separates the peninsula from the 
Counties of Hastings and Lennox. In 1668 a numerous deputation had been sent by 
the villagers of Kente to Montreal, urging the settlement of- a Missionary in their 
midst. September brought down Rohiaria himself, the aged chief of the village, to 
support tiie application, and, if he should succeed, to escort tiie " Black Robe " to 
Kente. MM. Trouve and Fenelon eagerly volunteered for the new enterprise, and pro- 
cured the consent of their Superior, M. de Queylus. But in the days of Louis XI\' a 
French Missionary was an ambassador in a political, as well as a spiritual sense ; and, 
like Livingstone in our day, the Sulpician was to be explorer as well as evangelist. 
He would on occasion negotiate and conclude treaties in behalf of France with the 
native races ; and, on discovering tracts hitherto unexplored by Europeans, he would in 
solemn form set up a cross bearing the Arms of France, and appropriate the territory 
to His Most Christian Majesty Louis XIV. Through an anticipation, we have already 
witnessed the a,nne.\ation of the north .shore of Lake Erie by the Sulpicians Dollier 
and Galinee. The north shore of Lake Ontario was now to be annexed by other 
members of the same Order. 

MM. Trouve and Fenelon went down to Quebec to obtain their credentials from 
Bishop Laval; also from the Civil Government, then represented by Governor Courcelles 



and th(j IntLMulant Talon. The two latter, with Colbert's instructions fresh in their 
memory, eaj;erly forwarded tiie Mission. IMshop Laval, too. was much interested in this 
new scheme which was to franciscr, or I'Venchify the Indians. Actinij on Colbert's 
sugijestion, he had just founded at Quebec his Petit Sciin/iairc, and had selected ei_<,dit 
I'>ench boys and six Indians to live under the same roof and to be carefully trained 
togethei;. The research of Abbe Verreau has brought to light a jjrivate letter written 
by the bishop to Fenelon for his direction in the Kente Mission ; it recommends the 
young missionary when perplexed to write for advice to the Jesuits. This letter would 
have matle interesting reading for Talon or Colbert ! 

From the scattered annals of this Kente Missi()n we obtain our Hrst knowledge of 
Central Ontario ; we obtain at the same time most interesting glimpses of life among 
the ancient Iroquois Nations. 

It was the second of October before the Sulpicians got away from Lachine. Two 
Cayugas were to form their entire convoy. With occasional portages and towings 
of canoes tiiey surmountetl the obstacles that lay between Lakes St. Louis and St. 
Francis. Smoke was noticed in an inlet of St. I-'rancis, and, on repairing to 
the spot, the explorers discovereil two emaciated squaws and a boy ten or twelve years 
old. These unfortunates had been driven as slaves to the Oneida village that lay west- 
ward near the lake of the same name. They made a desperate attempt to escape to the 
Frencli settleme.Us, and had now been fortv days in the wilderness witiiout otlu^r food 
llian a few scjuirrels, which the boy had contrived to shoot witii rud<: arrows niailc by 
iiis mother. Ravenously they devoured some biscuits that the Sulpicians gave them ; 
Init, their hunger allayed, they were now in terror lest they siiould suffer the ilreadful 
penalty of fugitive slaves among the Indians, — roasting to death at a slow tire. It was 
with the utmost difficulty that the missionaries saved these poor creatures from the 
tomahawk of their Iroquois guides, one of whom maddened himself for murder by 
drinking from a little keg of brandy procured in Montreal. Through many dangers 
the fugitives made good their flight, and joined the poor remnants of tribes tiiat had 
escaped th(! general extermination in the wi-st. To tht; .Sulpicians this was no holiday 
(excursion. Sonietim(;s wading rapids with bruised and bhieding feet, sometimes swim- 
ming streams and inlets, these weary wayfarers reached Kente on liie feast of St. 
Simon and St. Jude, (28th October"), 1668. 

Chateaubriand, in a cynical epigram, observes that of all Indian virtues, hospitality 
is the last to yield to European civilization. Indian larders were, nevertheless, subject 
to wide vicissitudes, ranging all the way from a stifling feast to gaunt famine. The 
liilgrims happened into Kente on rather a lean day. Their first meal was chopped 
pumpkins fried in suet. With the ancient sauce of hunger, the worthy fathers found 
the entertainment excellent ! Another day brought a pottage of maize and sunflower- 
seeds. This alarming preparation was called sagamitd. It would sadly disconcert the 


^1 f] 


' m 

1 '■ If ' ' 

1 1 

4 -^'^ • 



PIC run ESQ UE ca na da . 

chef o{ the "Arlins^toii" or the "Dafoe; " but, in the pre-historic jrardcns of Central 
Ontario, (cstketicisin was cultivated, and sunflowers lorded it over stjuashes, and pump- 
kins, and Indian corn. In the woodland kitchen, suntlower-seeds gave strength and 
character to weaker lla\ (jurs ; and in beauty's bower suntlower-oil disputed the place of 
honour with vermilion. 

There were three outposts of this Kente Mission : the Seneca village on French- 
man's Bay already noticed; Ganeraske, the Indian village on the future site of Port 
Hope; and Ganneious, the Iroquois representative of our Napanee. 

In the spring of 1669 the Abbe Fenelon went down to Montreal and brought 
back witli him as a reinforcement M. D'Urfe, who remained during the winter at 
Kente, while I-'enelon exjilored westward and wintered at Frenchman's Bay. Two 
other Sulpicians, Dollier and Galinee, spent, it may be remembered, the same winter in 

the forest between the Grand River and Long 
Point ; tiiey thankfully contrast the mildness 
of their season with its excessive rigour else- 
where. In Central and Eastern Canada the 

winter of 1669-70 
was of unprecedent- 
ed length and se- 
verity. June found 
the ground still 

frozen in the gardens of Montreal, and all the orchard trees dead. Unlike the 
tribes across the lake, who kept droves of swine, and stored up maize in large 




granaries, these Northern Iroquois had seemingly laid up nothing for winter. The 
missionaries were forced to range the forest for food, thankful for a s(iuirre! or 
chipmunk, and sometimes gnawing even the fungi tliat grew within the shade of the 
pines. Fenelon's experience by the Whitby shore must have been worst; than his 
brethren's at Keiite, for lie had no one to share his thoughts or his sufferings. He 
died within ten years, at the early age of thirty-eight ; ami it is probal)le that his 
constitution was broken by the hardships of that memorable winter. To this delicately- 
nurtured son of the old uohhssc what an appalling change from the salons of Paris, and 
from the refmed luxury of tiie ancestral castle at I'erigord ! lie would have iieen either 
more or less than human not to have been at times profoundly ilepressed. And he 
had sacrificed so much that his rank would have ensured to him! His uncle, the 
Marcpiis de I'enelon, was a ilistinguisheil soldier and statesman ; the Mar(|uis' daughter 
would presently marry into the great house of Montmorency-Laval. Another marriage 
alliance would secure for him the influence of tlu; Colbert. One of his uncles 
was Bishop of Sarin t ; his brother would become the illustrious Archbishop of Canibray ; 
and for himself, hail he but yielded to the passionate entreatii-s of his uncle of .Sarlat, 
and remained at home, the highest offices in Church or State were open to his legiti- 
mate amliition ! 'I'he life of ihese warlike Irotpiois was an alternation bi'tween wild 
revels and absolute destitution. Even amid their savage festivities I''eneIon must have 
felt greater Ion{;liness and dejection than Ca-dmon, the [)oet-recluse of the older Whitby 
shore tells us he felt amid the pagan revels of the Norsemen. 

In the 1 ruron-Algonquin era, this north shore was without doubt more thickly 






^ <■///"'. -A 7l^5Ni-y-'^yBil^h>wlHSer,i^,; "ilPt^CTia*.. ■' -■ PETERBOROUGH. 

"\ ' r .^''^i- -^^ "^^W;J villained than the Siilpicians 

foiiiul it. The Irociiiois deso- 
lation had swept over it, ami 
we learn from a letter of Laval's that only in 1665 did the conquering- race he^in 
colonization. In the (-arlier era there would certainly he fishin^f villay^es at Whitby, 
Oshawa, and Port 1 )arlin<Tton. We f(;el confident that, from a very early period, ,<;rist 
machinc'iy and ai^ricultural implements were manufactured at Oshawa; thou,ij[h ])rimeval 
machinery was no better than the Huron stump-mills litxured l)y Champlain ; while tiie 
sole a!4ricu!tural implements were mattocks, fashioned from reil-deer's antlers. Ages 
l)efore the 15owman of 1824 settled on that hill-sitle, a bowman of different lineajre 
chose for his villa,L,'^(! the windiiiL,"- stream and the shadowy elms. The burtjhers of 
ancient Howmanville did not build orq-ans and pianos; nor make luxurious furniture: 
delicately -pencilled sprays of hemlock served for their re[)ose ; and as for sweet 
symjjhonies, had they not the forest with its clustered orjran-pines ? 

After Trenchman's Hay, the next easterly station of the Sulpicians was at 
(.aneraske. We have already been at some pains to trace the error by which, in some 
later hreiich maps, the namt' " 'Pe\'oy;i(ron " was marked at I'ort Hope, disi)lacin,ir 
"daneraske the re;d name of the Indian villaije. Teyoyaijon was later on discovi-red 
to be identical with Toronto ; but as the former name now had shift<!d eastward. th(! lat- 

ter iia 

me must follow. Thus it happens that in early 

conve\ances covermijf 


e SI 

te of 

Port Hope the place 

IS callec 

1 T 


to ; indeed, it was to end the confusion that this 


r. the 

in cage 
•rs of 

liturc : 

as at 



he lai- 



eastern Toronto was, in the official post-office list of 181 7, named "Smith's Creek." 
An examination of contemporary inajis removes all doubt as to the corri'S]jonil(:ni:r of 
the ancient (ianeraske with the modern Port Mope. liven so lately as iSi;, the mill 
stream which races lliroiigh the town was called in our official maps and gazetteers 
(ianeraska River. l?ut, towards the close of the last centur\-, I'eter Smith. — an honest 
trapper and fur-dealer, — set up his log hut by the river near the site of the great 
Viaduct that now carries the Cirand Trunk Railway across th(,' valley ; and tiien 
Ganeraska Ri\'er began to shrink and modernize into Smith's Cnck. The stream now 
babbled nigiit and day of Smith's fair commerce, ami t(j tlie lingering shades of 
Indians and Sulpicians became the very Ri\er of Oblivion ; e\en the ancient elms as 
they lapped of its hurrjing waters forgot the past, and ceased 

" repeating 
Their old poelic legends to the wind." 

Where the Ganeraska entered the lake there was time out of mind a natural 
covert whither canoes llew for shelter. Canoe-voyages are over, and now lake-birds of 
longer and stronger (light haunt these waters ; but, if a storm breaks, it is just as it 

te of 
t this 







was of old : stenmcrs and sail-craft scud and tlutter towards the ancient covert, 
natural gatL-way to the ncnv-discovered land was not 
overlooked by the; Sulpicians. l''enelon visited the 
village more than once, and acquired threat inlluence 
over the Indians, which, in 1673, was turned to e.\- 


cellent political use 
by Count l""ron- 
In 1671. D'l'rfe made a sojourn at 
Port Hope. Sometimes he would c.xchanjre 
places with the Superior at Kente ; and 
the two Sulpicians would often ran<;e tile 
forests and neisjjhljourinj^ ?\\ox("r, "clicrchcr Ics hrc'bis I'garccs"- " U^ seek the; lost slux'p," — 
that Laval's pastoral had so solemnlv committed to their charij^e. In such excursions 
these i)ioneers must have liecome familiar with the sit< . on which have since arisen 
thriviuL,^ towns and villaiLjes, and which even in pre-historic times were singled out for 
their natural advantaj^es. Where the ivied tower of the; Colle_<;iate School now looks 
ilown U|)on Port Hope, the Sul|)icians have no doubt often stood and looked out upon 
a wavinu^ landscape, of wiiich the neiirhbourini^' |)ine-<^rovi" still whispers a reminiscence. 
As of old, PiiU! .Street leads down to the harbour; but otiierwise, how altered the 
scene I i'or the silence; and romantic gloom of syl\an ravines, we ha\(; all the bustle 
and circumstance of a younL,^ city, through whose arteries is throbbing the trade 
of the midland lakv^s. 

The .Sulpicians must have been well acquainted with the Cobourg Beach, which was 
but a coiqile of leagues eastward. Two centuries ago, it was in great esteem for salmon 
fishing. So the Manpiis de Denonville wrote Louis XIV in 1687. The Governor-General 
had rested on the site of Cobourg when returning with his army from the campaign 



in Sciu'c.i Land. A force of two thousantl mon assemhlcd at Fort Cataratjui 
(Kingston), antl cmliarkcd on a llotilla of nearly two hundred Ihxlcanx. Tills expcdilion 
brou_i(lu to^etlier names tiiat liav(! since l)econu' liouseliold words in Canada. Tiie 
veteran (.'allieres commanded und(!r tiit; Governor ; then came iIk' Ciievalier ile 
Vaiidreuil, ancestor of tlie Marquis wlio governed Canada in tin; day of Montcahr. ; 
amoULj the junior officers were Herthier, and Lon<rueuil ie Moyne. They coasted alonj^ 
the soutli sliore of tlie Lai^e, and reiulezvous(;d at tile nioutii of tlie CnMi(!see. Here 
they were joined l)y Tonty, commandant of I'ort St. 1-ouis, wilii liis contint^ent ,)f 
Illinois Indians; by Durantaye, commandant at Mackinac; and hy l)u l.utli, who was 
then commandant of b'ort Detroit, anil whose own fort on Lake Superior is still com- 
memorated bj <i city on those waters. 

Years afterwards this raid into Seneca Land was traceable by its ruthless devasta- 
tion. Leavinjr a force; to rebuild and i^^arrison I'^ort Niagara, the e.xpedition returned 
by the north shore. After an encampment on Hurlington Beach, and then at Tijronto, 
where they were detained by a storm of wind and rain, they reached Frenchman's Bay. 

i \' 


There the Christian Indians feasted our warriors with a double hecatomb of deer, 
after which the flotilla of bateaux ran before a light south-west wind to Cobourg Beach ; 



and licrc tlic cxixHlitlon encamped to reinforce the commissariat with lake salmon. It 
was tile sixth of Auji;iist, 16S7. Denonville and Callieres would pace the broad stranil 
toirether. They woulil at times stop short to watch the restless lake rockini^ like a 
mit^hty loom, and weavinjj into endless patterns the gray, and purple, and black sands; 
while coepiettish eddies, like Penelope, ran their fingers through the web and ravelled 
it all out again. When night closed in, the Governor would sit by the water watching 
the canoes of the fire-fishers shooting like meteors across the harbour. His eyes and 
his thoughts would involuntarily be borne towards that southern horizon so lately red- 
dened by the i)urning of the Seneca villages. But no thought of remorse for thousands 
of hel|)less women and children left homeless and himgering ! He is bethinking him in 
what terms he will set forth this business so as to flatter his royal master, and 
advantage himself. Two years hence such an anniversary of this August night will 
come as shall balance up thi; reckoning, and Denonville's administration with 
that pag<! of blood and llame, entitled T/w Massacre of Lackine. ! 

Charming lake and landward views may be hail at Cobourg. For them you may 
ascend to the campanile of Victoria Hall, as the stately municipal building here is 
called ; or, better still, get President Nelles' permission to climb to the roof of 
Victoria University. The University which, from the inscription over the portal, was 
established more than fifty years ago as the " Upper Canada Academy," lies nestling 
in a leafy covert, like Plato's lecture-room in the grove of Academus. Faraday Hall 
is a vigorous off-shoot of the older curriculum, showing the President's resolution to 
kee[) his University abreast of modern research. A saunter through the laboratories 
and museums brings into startling neighbourhood the slumberous past and the feverish 
present. Here we found a powerful Gramme machine in process of evolution ; there 
calmly slept an Egyptian mummy. Almost at a stride we passed from the era of 
electrical tension into the presence of a pyramid-builder! 

The i)eople of Cobourg feel a prick; in telling you how many of their college 
boys have- won distinction and inlluence ; they tell you, also, how many students have 
left lh(! olil law-offices there to become judges, law-givers, and Cabinet Ministers. And 
pray observe in the local names the fires of United Empire Loyalism still glim- 
mering. The village-nuchnis of the proposed district-town used to be called Amherst ; 
i)ut wiien it was conjectured that the Prince of Coburg-Gotha might become the 
husband of the IVincess Victoria, the Loyalists grasped the forelock of time, antici- 
[)ated even the domestic diplomatist Haron Stockmar, and called the new district-town 
Cobnro; which has since been unnecessarily amplified in the spelling. By an auspicious 
coincidence, the Prince of Wales was with us in i860 when Victoria Hall was ready 
to be inaugurated ; and he threw himself into the occasion with refreshing heartiness. 

As the Sulpician pioneers ascended from the Cobourg shore and climbed the 
water-shed that separates the streams of the Trent Valley from those of Lake 



Ontario, l>y jjentle undiiLntions tlu; ancient lake-marj^ins would Ix" reaciicil witli their 
sar>dy soil and growtii of pines and oalcs. WIkmi tlic lii^diest rid<;e was gained, tlu; 
wayfarers would face about and view the jjjreat Ial<(' now six or seven hundred feet ix'iow. 
To these first luiropean ex])lorers the lake might well seem houndh'ss. \'et, often hy 
mirajje, — and sometimes in actual presence, as Colonel Stricklaml declares.-mij^ht have 
been setMi, away in the southern horizon, the farthi-r rim of the primeval lake-hasin. 
Of yonder ilim ridgt;, Colonel Rochester woidd, more than a ceiitur) afterwards, 
make a "coij,ni of vantage" for a great city. I'ursuing their route and descending 
the northern s1o|K', they would see gitjaming through aisles of stately forest a great 
link of that noble lake-chain which, for centuries of centuries before the Trent X'alley 
Canal was thought of, must have led the forest-ranger from the Ba\ of Uuinte to 
Georgian Bay. As our plgrims approached the water, they foimd it tleeply fringed 
with wild rice, over which hovered clouds of wild fowl, — beautiful wood-duck, with 
summer glistening in their plumage ; also fall and winter duck just returned from 
the north. Nor did the birtis take amiss the presence of a f(;w red-men who were 
threshing some ripened rice into their canoes. Throughout the lake were scattered 
conical islets A'ooded with maples, already aflame with the hectic of the d\ ing simi- 
mer ; and at times their bright Ieav(;s would fall on the water like llak(is of tire. .So 
Champlain had found this lake in September, 1615; and so, mon; that half a century 
later, the Sulpicians saw it, — for in Rice Lake their e.xplorations mingled with the earlier 
current of adventure. 

In the days of the Sulpicians there stood by the north shore, — apparently within 
the present Indian Reserve on the Otonabee, — the Iroquois village of Kentsio, so that 
early French geographers calletl Rice Lake Lac dc Kentsio. Next century, when Kente 
became Ouinte, Kentsio became Quintio ; and, at the word, English geographers taking 
a long stride eastward, called the water " Lake Ouinte." Hut, as already seen. Lake 
Quintd was a cove on the lakeward side of Prince Edward County. Of this confusion 
the notable result was that neither of the litigants ultimately got the English title ; it 
was bestowed on a bay known to the early French as Lac St. Lyon. This is but 
another instance of the disentanglement necessary before we can recover the early 
history of our Province. 

The map of Lake Ontario has within historic memory been over-written with five 
series of names and settlements : those of the Huron-Algonquin era ; those of the 
Iroquois domination ; those of the F'rench occupation ; those of the Mississaga or 
Ojebway Conquest; and those of the English occupation. Of the Huron-Algonquin 
period, but slight trace survives on Lake Ontario beyond the name of the lake itself. 
After alternate fanfares and dis(;rdccs, it had been rechristened Lake St. Louis, and 
Lake of the Iroquois; Frontenac's Lake and Lake Cataraqui ; but the grand old Lake 
went calmly back to the simplicity, — the majestic simplicity, — of its ancient name, 


I; 'ill ! 


I'lc ruRESQun Canada. 


Even in Charlevoix's day, — a lumdrcd and sixty years ajjo, — the iindispiited name was 
once iiore Oiiitirio, " Tiie (Ireat Lakt . ' 

iy the Irocjiiois doniinaiion, aKo, Ixit few traces remain, — a few sonorous names 
like Niajjara and loronto. 1 Iw rare of atid(;tcs who lorded it over half tiic Conlinciit, 
whose aihanci' was ea-^criy coiirteil 1>\ I'ranec ami I'^nj^laiul, were, after all, iinaiih' to 
maintain their foothold a;;ainst the despised nji'hways. Of these, the Mississaj^as 
became speciall)' nunierotis and aj^r.nressive, so that their tolcm, the crane, was a familiar 
hierojflyph on our forest iices Ironi the hei^inniiii^ of last century. < )ne of the oldest 
of (ireek legends relates the war of the Cranes and Pygmies. Thoui^h the fot's of our 
northern Cranes were uoi I'yi^uiie's, but j;iants, the\' possessed not the craft of the 
little ancients who Iivi;il hy liie ocean shore. The Mississajjas so midtiplied in tiieir 
northern nests that presently, 1>\' mere numbers, they overwhelmed the Iro(|uois, Most 
desperate tii^htinjj; thiM-e was, and the !• .tle-tields were still clearly traceable when English 
pioneers first broke i^round. Colonel Strickland, in his ex|)lorations of the Cotuity of 
I'eterboroui,di, found near the Otonabee River the tield that gave the Mississagas the 
lordship of Rice Lake and .Stony Lake, and th(! oth(;r lakes beyond, a domain now all 
but shrunken to the little; village of Hiawatha. These old tragic scent^s are fast failing 
into the twilight of a Homeric legend. With propriety, probably unconscious, a town- 
ship on the lower edge of Rict; Lake has been named Asphodel, — no unfit name 
for well-watered meatlows. where the shades of Indian lieroes 




us sauntering over our ancient battle-grounds, one's thoughts find words in the 
sonnet-dirge of our native poet, Sangster : — 

" My footsteps press where, centuries ago. 

The Red Men I'ouglit and <onqiiered ; lost and won. 
Whole tribes ami r.ioes, gone like last year's snow, 

Have fourul the Eternal Hunting Grounds, and run 
Tile liery gaiintlet of their active days. 

Until few are left to tell the nunirnful t.ale ; 
And these inspire us with such wild .ima/e 

They seem like spectres passing down a vale 
Steeped in unccrl.iin nioonliglu, on their way 

Towards some bourn wheic darkness blinds the day, 
And night is wrapped in mysiery profound. 

We cannot lift the mantle r)f the past: 
We seem to wander over hallowed ground: 

We scan the trail of Thought, but .ill is overcast." 

The Mississagas, though not endowed with either the Mohawk verve or intellect, were 
no more destitute of poetry than of valour. Take the names of some of their chiefs. 
One chief's name signified "He who makes footsteps in the sky"; another was 




I ', 

' ih 

■w . 


Waivanosh, " He wlio ambles the water." The Rev. Peter Jones was, through his 
niotlier, descended from a famous line of poetic warriors ; his i^randfather was li'aiibuno, 
'•The Morning Light." On occasion, the Mississaga could come down to prose. 
Sciis^og describes the clay bottom and submerged banks of that lake, which, taking a 
steamer at Port Perry, we traverse on our summer excursion to Lindsay and Sturgeon 
Lake. Chemong aptly names the lake whose tide of silt sometimes even retards our 
canoe when we arc fishing or fowling. Oiiicniec, "the wild pigeon," has given its name 
not only to Pigeon Lake and its chief affluent, but to the town where Pigeon Creek 
lingers on its course to the lake. Sturgeon Lake is linked to Pigeon Lake by a 

i. ■ ' In 


/'/L Tl/RJuSQl •/•: CA.WUKl. 


(loiil)I(! ^r;it('\va\-. This "nicky |i(irl;il" the Mississ;ij,'as dcscrilxil hy /'o/xavi^voii. In 

our timi- lln' II. line liccii tiMiislcncil tn llir roinantii- villa_i(i: on tln' iipinr outlet, 
ami the l.itt<r is now the " Noitli Kivor." Hy a re|)rclicnsii)lc levity, the lower outlet 
is now lalled " Tlie l.itlli: Hoi)." I'Ik- steamiT //(•««/'(»<•<)',;'■<', wliicii plies between Lindsay 
an<l HoliiayL;con, would e\identl\ take us hack for tlie latter name to the old l-'niich 
esplorers, and to their outspoken .idiniialion ol ilie lovely -a'ootlliiiuis on these waters. 
.\i the south-west torner of Stony l,ak<' the o\crllow of the whole lake-chain is 
i;athere(l into a erxst.d lunnd, well-named " (. lear Lake," and ihenci' poured into Rice 
Lake throuL;h the ()ionaliee, I'his line ri\fr llows southwesterl)-, espandin^; at Lake- 
tielil inio Kelihew.inook, the "Lake ol thi' U.ipids"; thence, lietween hold and rock)' 
hanks, the <)tonaliee r,u<'s i.uher then llo>\s to I'eieihorouLjh. the channel desicndinj;, 
accoi'diuL;' to kuliiil,L!;'''s survey, a hundred ,uid lorty-seven leet within niiu- miles. 
kidiuL; on this current, even the massive raits of the olden time used to i^allop the 
distance within ,ui hour. 'I'hewise millwrii^hts at Lakelield and i'eterhoroui^h jrrasp the 
mane of this wild ri\'er, .uid make him lake man\' a turn at their wlu'cls. Hv the timi' 
he has escapi'd the milleis of I'eterhoroui^h .uid .Xshhnrnh.un. his tawny hack is iK-cked 
with foam and sawdust, and his s]iii-ii is (juelh'd. Were we to follow him 
over an I'rratic course some twent\-li\c miles farther, we should lind him champing; 
the sc'di^rtjs around a delta at Rice Lake. I'rom this delta the ri\er yot its Inilian 
name, ( )tonal)ee, " Mouth-W ater." 

< )n Rice l^.d^e, the chii'f Indian settlement is lliawatlia, named after the Hercides 
of ( )jel)wa\' m\tholoL;\, whom the American poet has imniortalizeil in his melodious 
trochaics. At lli.iwatha .uul on Scu^olj Island, \()u may still lind, in tlvj onlinarj- 
lanyuaije of the ()j<'l)wa\', frai^inenls of line imai^^ery and picture-talk, often in the \ery 
worils whii:h LonLjfellow has so happily woxeii into his pixMu. .\nd the scenorv of this 
Trent Wdley reprodnc(,'s that of tin; \'ale of Tawasentha. Here are "the wild rice of 
the rivi'r." and "the Lulian vilhiLje." ;uk1 "the i^roves of sint^dnj^j pine-trees, ever sijjjh- 
in^;. ever sinj^iuLj." At I'enidon I'alls we have the " Laui,diin;4' Water," and not far 
below is Sturi^'eon Lake, the realm of the " Kinij of fishes." .Siur^^eon of portentous 
size .ire yet met with, ihoui^di falliiii^r somewhat short of the comprehensive tish sung 
by Longfellow, which swallowed lli.iwatha, canoe and all! 

Among these forests, too, dwelt once Megissogwon, that "mightiest of magicians," 
who, "guartled hv the black pitch-water, sends the; fever from the marshes." Our 
fathers and grandf.ithers knew this magician only too well ; felt him far off, and shook, at 
his coming! Thev fought him, not like Hiawath.i with jasper-hcatled arrows, but with 
the woodman's axe. Like the Indian hero, our |)ioneer was often "wounded, weary, 
and desponding, with his mittens torn and tattered." A friendly woodpecker cheered 
on Hiawatha to the contest, and, by his tiim-ly hint to aim at the magician's head, 
won a tuft of crimson feathers as his share of the bloody spoils which • followed. 


rZ-A'TA.!/ (Wf.lRm. 


And we kiunv from many a 
piont'tT how, wlicn alone in llio 
wilderness, and a_t,nic smitten, Iiis 
labour has been cliccred and 
lij^ditcMHrd by the companionship 
of this friendly bird, — the " iMeld- 
oflicer," as he was often calleil. 
No part of Canaila owes more 
to its pionetTS than this charm- 
mg and now most healthful lake- 
land. Some of the finest towns 

' ■'! li \k 

1 1 




were, two tjcnerations a;40. juiij^les 
rcekiiii;- with malaria, ami infested by 
wolves, hlack-flies, black snakes, and 
black bears. All honour to llie men 

whose hands or brain worke;! ''c transformation ! Their services were but seldom 
remembered in the naming of our towns. " Port Perry.' by an after-thouj^ht, revived 
the memory of the foumler of Whitby. I,indsa_\' is named, uiH and worthily, after 
a poor a.\e-man, who perished in the survey vf the ceilar swam]), through the heart 
of which Kent Street was carried. Peterborou!:;h is now enterin_<^ on the dij^jnity of 
a city; but the name very properly lakes back our thou<;hts to 1S25, and to th'i con- 
dition of Scott's Plains, when Peter Robinson led thith(.'r his first band of Irish 
immigrant.s. After building a long boat, he made a preliminary ascent of the 
Otonabee with twenty native Canadians and thirty of the healthiest of the immi- 
grants. Mr. Robin.son adds: "Not ono of these men escaped the ague and fever, 
and two died," 

Among its first settlers, Lakefield received no less than three of the literary 
Stricklands, — Colonel Strickland ami his sisters, Mrs. Moodie and Mrs. Traill. By their 
graceful contributions to our native literature, Lakefield and Rice Lake became known 



far In-yoiul tlie limits of Canada. Dr. I'oolc's luirly Settlement of Peterborough is also 
an important contribution to the county annals. 

In the Counties of Peteri)oroui;ii ami llastinos, we tintl the borderland between 
the oldest sedimentar\' rocks ami the still more ancient i.aureatian series. The Silurian 
limestones are ex[)resse(l in the music of rich woodlands, or in rounded knolls of 
verdure ; but some of the most charmintj lakes ow(.! their wild beauty to the Lauren- 
tian formation, which often abru|)tly closes the vibta with beetlint; cra^s of red or 
jjrey gneiss. At .Stony Lake, this red granitic gneiss rises through the lake-floor, form- 
ing the islan^ls lately whitened by the tents of the American Canoe Association. That 
was a joyous occasion not soon to be forgotten. If you ask how the time was spent, 
Emerson must answer : 

I : 

' Ask yi'ii, how went the hours? 
All (hiy we swept the laki, searched every cove 
North Iroiii Camp Maple, south to Osprcy Uay, 
Walchiiij; when the louil ilojjs should drive in deer ; 
Or whippinif its roujjh surface for a trout; 
Or bathers, divinj; I'roin the rock at iiooii ; 
Challeii}jin<; echo by our guns and cries; 
Or lislcuinjj to the lauj;hter of the loon ; 
Or in the eveninj; Iwilifjht's latest red, 
Beholding the procession of tlie pines ; 
Or, Liter yet, benealli a lighted jack. 
In the boat's bows, a silent night-hiuiler 
StealiuL,' with paddle to the feeding-grounds 
Of the red deer, to aim at a stjuare mist. 
Hark to that mufllod roar! a tree in the woods 
Is fallen ; but hush ! it has not scared the buck 
Who stands astonislied ,it the meteor light. 
Then turns to bound .iway, — is it too late ? " 


Farther eastward, in tlu; townshii) of Madoc, we apparently lind the transition 
from the fused sedimt'iits of a lifeless world to the first dawn of life; for overlying 
the Upper Laurentian rocks are slaty limestones, containing the now famous liozoon 
Canadcnsc—\s\\v,'-,v. name Dr. Dawson devised, and whose character he triumphantly 
vindi'-;ired. R.xteriorly, tliis fossil resembles a hamlful of petrified tloss-silk, but, care- 
fully examined with a microscope, it betrays the food canals of a structure once 
animated. To the miner anil metallurgist, Madoc Township l)rcam<> in the fall of 1866 
an object of the keenest interest from the discovery of gold on the WYycK course of 
the iMoira, at the point thenceforwartl known as the Richardson Mine. Over a tract 
following the river for si.xteen miles, gold has been found in consideral)le tpiantity 
diffused through arsenical iron j)) rites, as at the gold mines of Reichenslein in Silesia. 




>fc'.Uft a. 

This auriferous inispickul may 

well yield larii^e profits ; but 

the separation of gold from sulphur 

and arsenic, and iron and lime is 

a process of great delicacy, — one 

therefore not to be intrusted to 

bulls and hears. From wild speculation, Mailoc lias most undeservedly suffered. A 

better time is coming. At the works of the Consolidated Gold Mining Company, 

the scientific difficulties have been honestly grappled with, and, we believe, completely 

solved. The process employed is based on the chlorination method of Plattner, but 

carried to a degree of refinement never attempted by the famous I'rejbtig ])rofessor. 

Of the by-products, the most important is arsenic, which is o])tained in tons, and is 

in constant demand for calico-printing, as well as for the manufacture of glass, Paris 

green, and aniline ily<'s. 

Iron mining in this district has long been associated with the township of 
Marmora, but deposits, of citlier magnetite, or hematite hav(! been fouml in workable 
quantity at various points in the Laur(Mitian rocks, from the rear of Mellcvilie to the 
rear of Kingston. 

From the .Seymour mine, magnetic iron ore has been largely drawn to supply 
the Cleveland furnaces; for. unfortunately, Seymour's lilast-furnace in Madoc has long 
been cold, and tin; jjroposed steel works at Btdleville have not yet been erected. 
Cleveland also takers largely of tlie hematite of this Madoc district, which is found 
to yield iron of great purity and tensile strength. Tiu; ore; occurs chietly in red 
amorphous masses, hut often inclosing specular iron in lustrous crystals. liiis mining 
district of Central and l-^astern Ontario has hitherto been somewhat ilitficult of access; 
but, with the Ontario and Queiiec Railway carried through the lieart of tiie district, 



and intersecting the railroads from Belleville, Napanee, and Kingston, there will be no 
difliculty in delivering minerals at an\- desired point. 

Impc.lant aiixiliarit-s will, of course, he lound in the Trent \'alli:y Canal and 
in its necessary complement, the Murray Canal. This latter project, which takes its 
naiiK! from the adjoining township, was seriously discussed by our great-grandfathers; 
but only in this day, alter nearly a hundred years of talk and scpiabble, has the 
project ripened into |ierfnrmance. '\\\v. Murray Canal will ili\'ide the narrow neck of 
land that joins Princes I'.dw.ird County to the mainland, thus o|)ening a western gate- 
way into the romantic Ha\- of (hiinte, and making lake-ports of what were before 
secluded bay-inU^ts. 

f)f the; I" rent X'alley, as it was two hundn'd and sev(mt\' years ago, Cham])lain 
gave such glim])ses as must ha\(! stirretl the sportsmen at th(; court of Mary 
de' Medici and Louis XIII. The fish and fishing of the Midland Lakes were, he said, of 
undoubted excidlence ; and " it is certain that the whole region is \-ery charming and 
delightful." Along the lake and river margins tin- trees seemed planted for jjleasure- 
grounds, suggcisting to this tu"st I'xplorcT wh(!th(;r, in a bygone age, the country had 
not been peopled by a race who had abandoned it only through stress of invasion. 

■;■■ I 

\^P 'i-^^ 







•)- \, ' - 

■ -J'' 






f :^- 

^ ■ ,4 


':h' ii 


i-'''*l'|y,i.^'^v«>r?'« , ifv^-^^y 




Vines and walnuts grew in profusion. As to game, there was no counting the deer 
and bears. I-'our or five hundred Indians of his party would form into two columns, 
widely divergent at th(- base-line of the iuint, but converging to a point on the Trent. 
Some active sportsmen would now beat the woods, and, raising the game with their 
cries, would drive it within the lines of the wedge. Any game that escaped at the 
outlet must take to th<; river, where Indians armed with spears were waiting in 
canoes. Captivated with the ingenuity of this primitive battue, Champlain must needs 
join in the sport with his arquchiisc. This ])onderous piece of antitpiity, when brought 
into action, was su|i]jorteil on a rest and held to its place by an iron brace ; and our 
old (iovernor. taking aim with his ordnance, would now suggest a surveyor taking 
levels witii a theodolite. Then the old blunderbuss was subject to dangerous illusions; 
for among some uiuloubted deer, Champlain found with dismay that he iiad brought 
down an Indian! Not killed, fortunately; and the Indian's wounds were presently 
healed over by generous /arj^vssi'. So our merry-men made the greenwood echo with 
their sport until they reached the Hay of Ouinte. Hut, like the famous hunt of 
Chevy Chase, this sport was leading up to .serious business ; and, as the old English 
ballad said ; 


"The ohiltl would rue was uriborr 
The hunting: ul Oial il.Ty." 


.A raid was designed against Onondiiga Land across the Lake. In Prince Edward 
County there is a headland that well remembers the crossing ; for from that occasion 
it got its name Point Traverse. Reaching the site of the future Oswego, Champlain 
struck inland and delivered his attack on the Onondaga stronghold. Hut, despite 
blunderbusses, and tiie impetuous assaidt of tiie lUirons, and a most desperate effort 
to fire this hornets'-nest, the lithe inmates beat off their assailants with loss, and 
lodged their barbs in Champlain's leg and knee-pan. There was nothing for it but 
retreat. Hackeil in a hamper, and strapped to a Huron's back, he was borne to 
the lake-shore in frightful torment, r, as th-j i)luff old sailor himself exclaims in 
his antitjue French, ianiais ie ne iiicstois vcn en viic telle gehenne. Champlain's wounds 
soon healed; but not so the breach with the Iroquois, who thenceforward waged 
a merciless border-war on the French Colony. 

Belleville offered in the original form of its name, — liellville, — a compliment to 
Arabella, the wife of (iovernor (iore; just as the liorc District was designed to 
immortalize Sir Francis himself, and as the County of llalton still commemorates 
his secretary, Major Halton. For its altered name, Belleville finds ample justification 
in the beauty of the city and its neighbourhood. As to the French aspect of the 
name, we may still find on the River Molra, French Canadians girt with red sashes, and 



lightening their log-rolling with quavers of voyageur songs. Many of the streets are 
shaded, and some are even overarched with trees. Hard by these aisles of towering 
maples are the domestic sanctuaries of wealth and fashion. The transition to this 
romantic twilight from the glare and bustle of Front Street, is a very delightful 
experience of an August day. Of public buildings, this young city has a full share ; 
the Post-Office and City Hall are notably good. When the lofty clock-tower of the 
City Hall is lit up at night, the dial can be seen far down the Bay of Quinte, and is 
a welcome beacon to mariners hurrying homewards. Belleville is the seat of Ale.xandra 
College and Albert University. A little beyond the city limits lies the extensive pile 
of buildings, occupied by the Provincial Institution for Deaf Mutes. Straying into one 
of the sacred ediliccs that give Church Street its name, we find on the wall a memorial 
tablet to the Rev. William Case, and are thus reminded that the Bay of Quinte was 
the cradle of Canadian Methodism. As early as 1791, the Cataraqui Circuit had been 
established, covering Kingston and the Quinte shores; but in 1795 the headquarters 
of the Circuit were definitely placed on the Bay of Quinte. Radiating from this focus 
of energy, the movement spread over all the land, attaining in the end the vast 
dimensions of tlie United Methodist Church of Canada. 

A morning excursion down the Bay from Trenton or Belleville to Picton and the 
Lake on the Mountain, is one of those delightful summer memories that one likes 
to lay up for winter use. Among these winding and romantic shores, the more 
destructive form of enterprise has happily stayed its hand, so that much of the primi- 
tive beauty survives. And then the charm of this famous Bay is in no slight measure 
due to cloud effects and the changeful humour of the sun. An hour ago he rose 
without a cloud, and even now "he fires the proud tops of the eastern pines"; 
but presently he will be revealed only through rifts in the cloud-wrack, or by broken 
shafts of light ; and in the afternoon we shall have a delightful season of dreamy, 
vaporous sunshine, like sweet hours stolen from Indian Summer. These inlets and the 
wooded headlands, and the waving barley-fields beyond, keep time, like old Polonius, 
to the fitful humour of their prince. Sometimes, under the joyous sunlight, these 
wrinkled coves break into peal on peal of youthful laughter, as though they had not 
assisted in laying the very foundations of the world; at other hours they answer 
the uncertain sun more than a sad smile; while, in his hours of gloom, you 
may hear tliese ancient shores grieving and wailing over some mysterious and tragic 

The old Indian names along the Quinte shores were nearly all trampled under foot 
in the shameless tuft-hunting of our early Governors; one instance will suffice. At 
Belleville, the ancient River Sagonaska was re-named to flatter the Earl of Moira ; and 
even his baronies were detailed in the County of " Hastings," and the Townships of 
"Rawdon" and " Hungerford." The front townships are of an older christening, and 

!:.' i 






manifest'v point to tlic yi'ar i jS.v wlicn Lord Syiliu-y was I-'oicii^n Secretary, ami 
riuirlow was Loid Clianccllor in the tirsl i:al)inct of tin: I )iikc of rortland. ( )n tlic 
south short: tlic names form a kind of family .uroiip of ricori;;*; the Third's chililrcn. 
i'rincc I'Muard County was named from the KinL;'s fourth son, lulward, Hukc of Ivcnt, 
thi; father of (juerii N'ictoria. Then the first seven townships, — or "towns" as tiiey 
were called,- -in rp|ier Canada, were iledicated to lieori^c III and his family; so we 
got King's Town (Kingston), l""redericksbin'gh, I'^rnest Town, Achjlphus I'own, Marys- 
Inirgh, .Sophiashurgh, and Ameliashurgh. Amelia? — every one who has read Thackeray 
remcmhers her, the pretty little; maiden prattling and smiling in the arms of the fond 
old King, lu;r father, and then lu-r death in tht: hloom of womanhood, and the shock 
to the father's rc!ason : "the darling of his old age killed he'fore him untimel\- ; our 
Lear hangs o\er her breathless lips, and cries, ' Cortlelia, Cordelia, sta)' a little!'" 

In our course down the |}a\, the Wiruiut has touclieil .it Mississaga I'oint, in 
.\meliasliurgh, laniling at their favourite picnic-ground holiday-makers Iron) Belleville. 
Thence onward betw(;en the shores of -Sophiasbin'gh and Tx'enilinaga, The latter is 
namitl Irom that regal son of the forest, whose luiglish name is enclosed in Uraiitforii. 

A notable Mohawk chief of the last cenlurv', — ami a cousin of Brant, — has lent 
his sonorous name to l)eseronto, the busy llour-and-lumber port \\v have now reachetl. 
On .asking a Mohawk resident to spell ihe name, he wrote it Ihxy-say-routli-yoii, and 
translated it. " Thumler and Lightning." .\ niore familial' luiglish title for the chief 
was " Captain John " ; an insular fragment of his once t;.\lensi\e demesne lay but a 


X''() under our bows, and abreas 

t of 

us, on 

the north mainland. 

av Ills iiuiian 

church and 

At 1) 

eseronto, loLT-ra 

fts f 


the TrcMit, .Moira, ami Xapanee, arc; 

sawn into planks and boanls, and lath and sli 

iii'i'les, w 


are shippinl cliiell\' to 

( )swe!ro for American consumption 


o raw 

material is wasted at this mi 

11. Aft 



IS are taken out ol the 

the residue is cut into kiinlliiig-wo( 

)d and faLTLrotetl 


en, n\- an iiiliciiious cahli'-railwax', 

cities for startiiiij' their 


fast (ires. 

.\s ih 

assed to tin; waters-edge, ami s 


hipped to lake- 

le steamer swings out ol I Jeseroiilo, we get ;i noble persjiectnc o 

)f the Lon<r 

Reach, which, crossi 

ing our kite i)atli, t'xtends Irom \apaiiee Kucr to 1 icton 







who has not onl\' collc-cted the domestic annals oi 

the Bav of Ouiiite, but 



a loNUiL!' e\'e stiuiiei 

1 it 

s sccner\- uncle 

all lights, considers this pc.-rspective o 

)f the 

Long Reach the most enchainiiiL' \ iew of 

Nine miles bcvond t 

on a I 


d d 

eep rixcr, w 

le head of the Reach, stands the ancient town of Xap-anee 
hich is subject to a curious tuo-hour tide, iH^preseiiting a 

sanation ol si.\t(;en inches m nu-aii 

but sonietimc:s reaching as great a lluctuation 

IS thirty inches. Napanee River is navigable for 


iistcxl schooners u|i to the old 

Cartwright mill, which formed the nuch'us of the modern town, and suggestetl to the 
Mississagas the name Nau-pau-nay, " Moiir." We lia\e alreatU' noticed the existence 





liere of an cariy iro 
qiiois villai;(', (laniiL'- 
ious, which, in lOftS or 
1669, Ix'canic ail out- 
post of tlic Kcntc 
Mission. Ilic |)rc'si:nt 
IncHan nanu; is not 
unhappily riioscn, for 
despite st:\i!rai im- 
portant manufactures, 
Napanee's ciiii;f trade 
is in breadstuffs. Above 
the old mill is a beau- 
tifid cascade, most pic- 
turesquely broken by 



IctljTC's of limestone ; and, still higher up, the river is spanned by a fine viaduct-bridge 
of the Grand Trunk Railway. 

At the southern end of the Long Reach, the water contracts within two lofty 
shores into Picton May, on entering which we find the town itself closing the lovely 
vista. Picton is named after Major-(ieneral Sir Thomas Picton, who led the 5th Divis- 
ion at Waterloo, and fell in the action. The High .Shore, which has accompanied us 
since we were abreast of Hay May, reaches its greatest elevation at the celebrated 
Lake of the Mountain. Here we disembark and fall to climbing the steep ascent. 
The outlook from the top well rewar Is the pilgrim; it would be difficult to find a love- 
lier panorama of lake antl woodlaml, greensward anil waving harvest. Within the heart 
of the mountain is the singular lake, who^e source of supply is an enigma. Generally 
full, and even brimming over, it has no ap;»arent feeder. Being on a level with the 
far distant Lake Erie, it has long been conjectured tiiat there may be a communication 
between them, just as the Stymphalian Lake in an older Arcadia was sujiposed to 
have an underground i)ipe into Argolis. Our lake measures five or six miles round, 
and abounds in fish, -perch and black bass, pickerel and pike. The "water-privilege" 
lien: attracted pioneer millers, but gristing in those days differed as much from the 
"gradual reduction" process now going on at the foot of ihe hill, as the old water- 
wheel ilid from the scientific turbine. By an iron flume, no more than seventeen 
inches in diameter, power is drawn from the lake above to drive a model grist-mill, a 
plaster-mill, a horse-shoe factory, a foundry and machine shop. The entire machinery 
of the two last is driven by a three-inch stream and a "Little Giant" turbine, which 
would easily revolve in one of the workmen's dinner-pails. The performance of this 
bottle-imp is a genuine curiosity. 

On tile lakeward side of Prince Edward County, The Sandbanks are very remark- 
able objects of interest. Lofty ridges of sand, appearing from a distance as white as 
snow, were originally in some obscure way thrown up at the water's edge ; but, by a 
kind of glacier movement, which proceeds only in the winter, they have now withdrawn 
from the shore and are encroaching on the adjacent farms at the rate of about 150 
feet a year. The active agent in the movement appears to be the drifting snow 
which entangles the sand and carries it forward. On the hottest day snow may be 
found a short distance down, as we proved by repeated trial at various points of 
the banks. Historically, too. Big .Sandy Bay is most interesting. It was on the cove 
within, now called West Lak<;, that in 1668 the Kente Mission was established. There 
began the exploration of our Lake Ontario shore, and there, following in the wake of 
the Sulpicians, our exploration now ends. 




T>ASSIN(; ilown the; 
(|uicl waters of 
Oiiiiitu, shut ill from the 
j^^rcat I.aki; oiitsiik! hy 
th(! Iniii:; h)\v-lyinLi; shore 
of Amherst Islaiul, 
formerlv called Isle of 
Tonti, in memor)' of 
l)e la Salle's triistei 
lieiit(!nant, — the j^rey 
mass (jf the cit)' of 
Kinjjjston is seen crown- 
iiii^ the slojje of the 
ciirvin>^ shore. ]'"r()m 
the western e.\tremit\' 
of tlie curve, the settinij 
sun crimsons the- witle 
expanse of Lake 
Ontario, luist- 
warcl, tlu; chan- 
nel of the St. /.' • 
Lawrence be- -■■ <■ '-•i' 

l.AKIC Ol- rili; ISLES, 

tlfins to he ilefmed 

l)y a line of islands. 

To the north (!.\tends a 

reach of what anywhere else 

would seem a nohht ri\er- 

the C"atara(iui, which ga\e t(j the 

I' '. : place its early name. 

Towards this point. " where the lake and river meet," 

on a midsummer's day more than two centuries ago, there steered its way, up through 






/irl\r/-A'/V ONTARH). 






the mazes of the Thousand Islands, a (lotilla of a splijndoiir never seen before in these 
remote waters. I'irst. < ame four lines of canoes, then two lar^^e and ),Mily-|)ainted 
llat-hoats or bateaux, ailorned with ciiiaint and mysterious devices, followed i)y a lonjj 
train of cano(;s, a lumdred and twenty in all. In tiw llrst canoe of the train was a 
clust<'r of I'Vench ofticers, conspicuous amon^ them the stately liii^urc of the Count de 
Frontcnac, (jovernor of Ncnv I'rance. ihe hri^du sim siione on j.jold-lact;d uniforms, and 
the measured beat of the paddles kept time to the strains of martial music; but it was 
no holiday cruise that had been e.xperit^nceul during the fortnij,dn that had intervenc^d 
between the <nibarkation at Lachine and the arrival at Catara<|ui, The ascent of such 
a rix'-r as the St. Lawn.Mice involved lonj,^ and toilsonu; portaj^cs, ami the labour — now 
of ilra^^j,nni; the tiat-boats aloni,' the shore, and now of stemminjf the tierce current in 
water more than waist deep. brontenac, in |)(;rson, spurred on his men 10 their task, 
sharinjj their privations, losinjf a nii^ht's sleep from an.xicty, list llu; water should have got 
in and spoiled the biscuit, bui never leavin^^ his post (iven while, — amid drenching 
rain, — the ( rews struggled with the wild rapids of the Long Sault. Wikmi the 
rapid had Ix't-n safely |)assed, ihr llotilla glided in among thi; placid labyrinths of 
the Lake of the Islands, past ruggc-tl masses of lichened, pine-crested granite, through 
glassy inlets mirroring the varied green of birch and bei'ch and maple, edged with 
soft velvety moss and waving ferns, fringed with reeds, and starred, here and there, 
with the snowy tlowers of the water-lily. Heyond this enchanted land, the islands 
grew fewer and larger, anil now the blue e.xpanse of Ontario loomed wide in the 

As the miniature lleet approached the point where the Cataracjui joins the St. 
Lawrence, it was nu-t !>)■ a canoe containing some Irocpiois chiefs, magnificent in 
feathers ami wampum, accompanied by the Abbe d' Urfe. In the language of the 
journal of the expedition, " the\' saluteil the Admiral, and paid their respects to him 
with evidence of much joy and confidence, testifying to him the oijligations they were 
under to him for sparing them the trouble of going farther, and of receiving their 
submission at the River Katarakoui, which is a very suitable place to camp, as they 
were about signifying to him." Then they conductetl him to "one of the most beau- 
tiful and agreeable harbours in the world, capable of holdin.; a hundred of the largest 
ships, with sufificient water at the mouth and in the harbour, with a mud bottom, and 
so sheltered from every wind that a cable is scarcely necessary ft)r mooring." 

The expedition landed and pitched tents on the spot now occupied by the T6te 
du Pont Barracks, commanding the outlet of the Cataraqui River, and protected by 
the high banks opposite from the eastern winds. The main shore, curving out south- 
westwardly, sheltered it from the west winds that sweep so strongly down the lake. 
From the northward, the Cataraqui wound between high and curving banks, begirt 
with marshes, inhabited by water-fowl, beaver and muskrats, while to south and west, 


I ill 




hill, headland, and lonsj^ v lodcd islands closed in tho nohlc iiarbour, the manifest site 
of a future ciMilie of trade and shipping. 

'liiis sjjot liaii been marked out liy tho Intendant, M. ck; Talon, durimj^ the 
n'i^iiiic of M. de v.'ourcelles, for •' a fur <k'pot with ilefences," to protect tin; j^real 
trade, and check the formidal)le Irocpiois. M. de Courcell(;s had himself undertaken 
an explorint^- journey to Cataracpii in a canoe, and his last official act was to call a 
convention of liie Imlians to secure tlu;ir assent to the erection of ilu; proposed fort. 
Frontenac, probably prompteil by La Salle, was not less alivi; to the importance of an 
/iitpost at the entrance of Lake Ontario, which should check the lro(|uois raids, and 
int(.'rcept tlu; llow of the fur traffic towards the Dutch ami luigiish settlers of New 

At dayiire.ik. |ul\' i ,;, 1(573, -'^ '"'•''^ "' drum, the b'rt'nch force, some foiii" hundred 
strono',- inchuiini^ Indians, was drawn up under arms, ami the ir-xpiois deputies ad- 
vanced, betwct-n a douiilc line of men, to the lent of the (loxcrnor. who stood, in lull 
official state, surrounded by his officers. .\fter liie usual formula ol smokint^' the pipe; 
of i""ace in silence, the council was opened liy a h'icndly chief nanu.'il I iarakontie, 
with the usual expressions of respect fiu' tin,' dreat Ononthio. L'ronienac re])lieil in 
his L^rand j)alei-nal st\le, <'.\pressiiH4 his pleasure at meetint;' his Indian "children." and 
tile ])acitic spirit which animated him ; and, with i^^ifls of tol)ai'co and eiins lor the 
men, and i)runes and raisins for the women and chiUlren, the pow-wow broke up. 

Mi'antime, the site of tlu; lort was marked out. trees were- lut down, trenches 
(Iul;', ;uu1 palisades hewn, with such enerL;\' anil industry tli.U. lour da\ s liter, sutVi- 
cient proL;i'ess had been made to .ulmit of cilliuL;' a L;rand council <il ihe Indians, at 
which I'ronlen.ic after a jiulicious [jreface of exhortation and \-eiled threats, announced 
his intentions, as a prool ol his ;ilfection, — of buildiuL;' a storehouse, where ihev could 
be sii|)[)lied with L;(iods. without the incomiMiieiice ol a lont; and daiiL^^erous jounie\. 
His address seemed to L;i\'e ^I'ueral satisfaction, anil, ;i few da)s after, the assembled 
Iroquois departed to their homes. The expedition also was sent back in detachments ; 
Frontenac willi his i^iiard ontsta\iiii^ the rist, in order to receive a deputation from 
the \'illai:;es to the north of Lake Ontario. In reportine' to the minister, Colbert, the 
successful aceomplishmeiu of his object, he intimated that while this fort at Cataracpii, 
with a \'essel then in proj^ress, would i^ixc tlii" L'rench control of ')ntario, a second 
fort at the mouth of the Niagara would I'omm.ind the whole chain of the upper lakes. 

I his. indeed, loruied part ol the comprehensi\i' scheme of the man to whom the 
command of I'Ort I'rontenac was assigned, — Robert Cavalier de la .Salle. The son of 
a wealthy burgher family of Rouen, 1 )e la Salle had come to Canada at the age of 
twent\-two. Brave, enterprising and enthusiastic, endowed with indomitable firmness 
and ine.xh.iustible jiersevenince, his natiu'alK' strong constitution, hardened .almost to 
iron by a ten years' course of discip':r-.e among the Jesuits, and with an imagina- 



lion tired hy tlic drcani of dis- 
covery, In: was ca^'M' to dibtini^uisli 
liiin.^clf l)y takiiiL^' possession, in 
ihe name of I'rance, ol llie uii- 
explored terriUnies to tli<: soutli 
of tile ( I real Lakes. llis early 
tin^ani was of a nortii-wcsl passat^e 
to China iiy liie waters of tin; 
Ottawa. Hut his inind, tired liy 
Jolicl's report of the Mississipfii, 
was now conceiitratecl on a more 

]iracticahle scheme. Fort Frnntenac was to 
h(! hut a ste]) Inwards industrial colonies in 
the rich south-western wilderness, and a com- 
mercial route down the Mississippi to tlie Gulf 
of Mexic<i. A special journey to I'ranc(\ in 
1674, secureil t.> him a ;..;ranl of tlie fort, a 
lar<T(! tract of surroundiiiL:^ territory and the 
islands adjacent, ahmi^ with his patent of un- 
titled nobility. Within two years lie hail re- 


\ m 

I ■ 



placed the original wooden fort by a much larfjer one, " enclosed on the landward 
side by ramparts and bastions of stone, and, on the water-side, by palisades. It 
contained a range of barracks of squared timber, a guard-house, a lodging for 
officers, a forge, a well, a mill and a bakery." The walls were armed with nine 
small guns, and the garrison consisted of a dozen soldiers, two officers and a surgeon, 
while an additional contingent of some fift) labourers, artisans and voyageurs, added 
to its strength. In the shadow of the fort, where now stands the oldest portion of 
the city ci Kingston, a small French village of colonists grew up. A little farther on 
was a cluster of Iroquois wigwams, and near them the Chapel and Presbytery of the 
Recollet Friars, Louis Hennepin, the well-known explorer, and Luie Buisset. 

Here La Salle reigned supreme over his little kingdom, and here he might have 
remained, amassing a colossal fortune, and, perhaps, making Fort F'rontenac as im- 
portant a settlement as Montreal. But his ambition still pointed westward and south- 
ward, and, despite the persistent opposition of Jesuits and Canadian merchants, he 
secured, on a second visit to F'rance, permission to undertake the exploration of the 
country with a view to a route to Mexico, and to build as many forts as he required, 
provided they were built within five years. His cherished design was eventually to 
build a vessel at some point on the Mississippi, with which he might follow it to 
its mouth, thus opening a new commercial route to the Gulf of Mexico. How, in 
pursuit of this ignis fatuus, he built his brigantine at Fort Frontenac, in which he 
sailed to Niagara to erect his fort or " palisaded storehouse," and build and launch 
the ill-fated Griffin, — -lost with her first cargo of furs in the stormy waves of Lake 
Erie, — how, after reaching at last the Gulf of Mexico, and taking possession of 
Louisiana, he fell in the wilds of Texas, by the bullet of a false follower, is known 
to all who have read the history of Nevt' France. 

Under M. dc: Denonville, I'ort Frontenac was the scene of an act of treachery 
that stamps his name with an indelible I)rand of infamy. By the intluence of two 
devoted missionaries to the Oneidas and Onondagas, he inveigled a number of their 
chiefs into the fort, under tin; pretext of a pacific conference ; and, as soon as they 
were within the precincts, had them [)ut in irons and carried in chains to Quebec, 
thence to be transported to France, to wear out their lives in the dismal confine- 
ment of the galleys. Strange in say, the outrage was not avenged on the missionaries. 
The elders of the tribe sent them away with a safe convoy, lest the younger members 
of the tribe might be less forbearing, "and we, aged and feeble as we are, shall 
not be able to snatch thee from their vengeful grasp." 

A terrible retribution followed ere long, in which the i.mocent suffered with the 
guilty. The Inxjuois swept the country around Catara(|ui, burning the cabins and 
destroying the crops of the settlers, covering the hikes with their canoes, and block- 
ading the garrison. The hostilities culminated in the midnight massacre of Lachine 




and the capture of Fort Frontcnac, which, like Fort Niagara, was demolished by the 
Indians. De Frontenac, recalled to supersede the weak and treacherous De Uenonville, 
found the colony laid waste, its villages heaps of smoking ruins, and his favourite 
fort in ashes, while an ominous war-cloud was rising between New England and 
New France. Another expedition under his command was soon marshalled at Catara- 
qui, embracing, besides Indians and Colonial troops, a number of staunch veterans who 
had followed the standards of Conde and Turenne. Frontenac, disregarding the 
opposition of his Intendant, M. de Champigny, undertook and completed the recon- 
struction of the fort before contrary orders could arrive from France. It cost about 
^600, — a large sum for those days, — and is said, in an old record, to have "consisted 
of four square curtains, 100 feet each, defended i)y four square bastions, but without 
either ditches or palisades." A wooden gallery was built round it, leading from one 
bastion to another, — the platforms of these bastions i)eing mounted on wooden piles, 
and the curtains pierced by loopholes. 

During the tr-nquil half century which followed Frontenac's death, we almost lose 
sight of the fort and settlement at Cataraqui. Father Picquet's complaint, in 1758, 
of the quality of the provisions he got there, shows how far the settlers lagged 
behind in agriculture. But the conflict was impending which was to wrest from 
France her possessions in the New World, and I'ort Frontenac soon felt the shock. 
It had been repaired and strengthened to meet the storm. Hut Abercrombie seized 
the opportunity when its garrison was drawn off to protect another point, and sent 
Colonel Bradstreet to take it, with 3,000 men and eleven guns. He landed near 
Cataraqui, on the 25th of August, 1 758, and quickly erecting a battery on the site of 
the present market-place, besieged the little garrison of seventy men, commanded by 
the aged and chivalrous M. de Noyau. The garrison held out as long as possible, 
but, ere the coming reinforcements could arrive, M. de Noyau was forced to capitu- 
late, stipulating, however, for the safety and transport of his troops, and of the 
" sacred vessels of the chappel " to Montreal. Besides the fort, Colonel Bradstreet's 
prize included the entire French navy in Canada, including two twenty-gun ships, 
with supplie.-; for other outposts, 80 pieces of cannon, and a (juantity of smaller arms. 

Traces of the old fort, and also of the breastwork thrown up hy Colonel Brad- 
street, were visible many years after the Conquest. The remains of the inner tower 
were not removed till 1827. and vestiges of the fort were still visible when the Grand 
Trunk Railway line was opened into the city. A few Fn.'nch and Indian families 
clung to the site ; but the place was scarcely heard of again until its permanent 
settlement by the U. E. Loyalists at the close of the American War of Independence. 
A party of these loyalist refugees, undecided where to go when driven from their 
old homes, were guided by a leader who had formerly been a prisoner in Fort 
Frontenac, and who considered it an eligible site for settlement. Coming from New 

I 1 

, M ; 



^'o|■k liy tin; circuitous roiilc of tlic St. Lawrence, the men of tlic party, only, at first 
penctratcii to tin; l)anks of llic Cataraqui, where no habitation was to Ix; seen save 
" tile i)ark-tliatcliecl wii^wani of tiic savage, or tlic newly-erected tent of the liarii\ 
U)yalist." 'Ilu'\- returned for the winter to Sorel, wliere they iiad left their faniili(!S, 
and, when sjJriuL;' liad once more set free the blue waters of the St. l.awrcMUi', tlu:y 
niaile liieir wa\' u| :ie river in (hilcaux, took up their grants of land, and, in their 
loyal zeal, changed the nauK; of the place from Cataracpii to /\'/iii^s/o~a'ii. Tlu'lr 
leader. Captain Cirass. observes iu a tone worthy of the men of the Mayjlotvi'r : " 1 
pointed out to them the site of their future metropolis, and sjaineil for persecuted 
principles a sanctuary, for nnself a home." Other settlers ere lon>; followed, bearing 
names still widl-known in Kingston, and founding families, imbuetl with strong Tory 
predilections, communicating to the place a conservative c' aracer, which it long 

I'or \t!ars, life at the new settlement was primitive enough. I'Or lack of a mill, 
the settlers had to grind their corn with an axe on a Hat stone, or with pestle and 
mortar. Tiie clumsy a.xes and unpractiseil haml of tht; military settlers made; l)ut slow 
progress in clearing the land. I'iieir farms, too, were often sacritked to their necessi- 
ties, sold sometimes for a horse or a cow, or even iialf a barre'l of salmon. 

The Inst JH'ef, accidentally killed by a falling tree, was long remembered i)y those 
who had the privilege of sharing it. In 1 78S, "the famine year," the ilearth was so 
great that starving families flocked in from the surrounding country where roots and 
leaves were eaten by the people. 

(iradualK', Kingston became a place of some consequence. The original log-cabins 
gavi; plac(! to hous(;s of limestone, of which there was abundance to be: had for the 
(piarrying. .\ grist-mill, built b\' the (jovernment in 1 7.S2, about si.\ miles up the Catara- 
cpii, and worked by a jirett)' cascade tumbling out of a pictures(pie gorge, atlded to the 
importance of the town. As the settlers gr(;w a little richer, and able to replace their 
home-maile clothing by imi)ortetl fabrics, and the e.xporls of llour and pork increased, 
new shops were started, and the principal tiioroughfare — now called Princess .Street — 
rectMved the; name of Store .Street. 'l~he place ri^sumed much of its old conscMpience 
when it became a military and naval station under the British tlag. This honour was 
at first conferred on Carleton Island, near the opposite shore, when; the ruins of 
extensive fortifications e.xcite the wonder of picnic parties to this day ; but when the 
island was discovered to be within the; .Xmerican lines, Kingston was chosen, and it 
.retained the distinction, until the final withdrawal of the British troops from Canada. 
"Tile War of 1S12" brought Kingston to the front, as the chief Canadian strong- 
hold on Lake Ontario, and iht; rival to the American arsenal at Sackett's Harbour. 
The Ciovernment dockyard occupied the low-lying peninsula opposite the town, which 
is now graced by the fine Norman structure of the Royal Military College and its 





dciKMiclcnt huiltlin^s. Tlic dark green reach 
of deep water between tlie college and the 
glacis of l'"ort Ilenry was the na\al moor- 
ing gnjiHui. W'lu're. in our da\s of jiiping 
peace, nothing more threatening than the 
skiffs of cadets training to be future Man- 

lans are seen, lay formidable battle-ships. a nook. 

One of them, — the St. Lawrence, — built 

here in 1814, cost the Mritish Government half a miUion sterling. Tn all proba- 
bility, the wood was sent out from ]*^ngland ! During this same war, I'"orl Henry — 
the moilern successor of old Fort b'rontenac — was commenced, at first as a rude fort of 
logs with an embankment. The woods, which clothed the long sloping hill and the 



: |: 

adjacent country, were cut down to prevent the possibility of surprises, and a 
ciiain of those essentially Colonial defences, known as block-houses, connected by a 
picket stockade, defended the city. One ancient specimen of the little wooden forts 
still remains. Subsequently, the block-houses gave place to a cincture of massive Mar- 
tello towers and stone batteries, which present an im[)osing appearance on approaching 
Kingston from the water, though to modern warfare they are no more formidable 
than the old defences of logs. Twenty years after the war, the present l'"ort 
Henry was also built, a most important fortification in those days, with its heavy guns 
and mortars, its advanced battery and its casemated barracks, providing accommodation 
for a large garrison. The embrasures of the fort look askance at the foundries and 
enginery on the opposite side of the harl)our. Tiie cannon confronts the locomotive ; 
and, fit emblem of our time, a solitary warder guards the decaying fort, while in the 
locomotive shoi)s, between four aiul live hundred skilled workmen are em|)loyed. Still, 
Kingston retains a military look, not unpleasing to the tourist's eye. There is the fort 
crowning the glacis. I'^ill in front, a round tower co\'ers the landing. At its base, a 
semi-circular bastion pierced for artillery is ready to sweep the water. The tower, with 
its conical red cap and circling wall of compact ball-proof masonry, looks well. It 
woulil ha\e scarei.1 the Irocpiois. It coidd have ilefied the raiders of 1812. Against 
modern artillery, it is as good as an arqucbiisc. Hard by is the military college, with 
its fifty or si.xty red-coated, whitc-helmeted catlets. Where the olive-green of Cataraqui 
Creek blends with the blue of the bay, still stands the old naval barracks, where Tom 
Howling and Xed Huiuing were wont to toast " sweethearts and \vives." A little up 
the creek is Harriehikl Common, once gay with the pomp and circumstance of glorious 
war, but now seldom marched over by anything more militant than the villagers' geese. 
I'rom the -CommDii, a causeway, nearly iialf a mile long, extends across the creek to 
the 'fete du /'oiif Barracks, the heailquarters alternately of the very efficient A and H 
Batteries. Tiianks to the gentlemen cadets and tiie batter\- men, the streets of Kin<rs- 
ton still iiave a sprinkling of red, white and blue. ihe Royal Military College is the 
West Point of Canada. To train young men for a |)rofession that can hardly be said 
to exist or to have any ground for existing in the New World, to educate officers 
before any one thinks of enlisting soldiers — save on a scale suited to the ancient 
grand-duchy of Pumpernickel — is perhaps to put the cart before the horse. What is 
still more anomalous, the Cjovernment seems to h.ive no policy on the suljject, for it 
takes no pains to utilize the services of the graduates of the institution it has estab- 
lished. Still, if we must spend three-quarters of a million annually on a militia 
department, it is well that some of the money should be spent on education. The 
greater the numijer of .scientifically trained men a new country has the better. The 
cadets get a capital training, for the college is admirably officered. 

Kingston has long had a just pre-eminence as an educational centre. The first 



(iranimar School in Canada was (■stal)lishL'il here; in 17S6, under Dr. Stuart, — tlu- first 
teacher as well as the lust cierjryman in Upper Canaila ; and tlu; sciiools of Kingston 
are noticed hy RoclicfoucauM on iiis \isit in 1805. liiere were elementary schools, 
on the Lancasterian print:ipli', for tlu.- poorer classes, lon;^ hitlore our Common School 
system was orj^anizcd. In hiijher education it has an honourable record. The University 
of Queen's Colle<4C, new local habitation is one of th<; architectural adornments of 
the city, was founded in 1S40 by a number of clergymen and laymen of the Church of 
.Scotland in Canada. " Oueen's," as it is alTectionately termed by its sons, has grown 
with the growth of Canada, — has a noble record of work done in the- past, -and, in its 
new halls and the throng of eager students who till them, and its largely increased 
and distinguished staff, — it rejoices in greater usefulness in the present, anil has still 
brighter hopi's for the future. 

Kingston is the seat not onl\' of the Royal Military College, and of Queen's 
Universitv. with its b'aculties of .Arts, .Science. Law, and Divinity, but also of the 
Roman Catholic College of Regiopolis, which has becMi closed since the withdrawal 
of the government grant in iS6c). Two other excellent institutions, the Ro\al College 
of I'hvsicians and Surgeons, and the Women's Medical College, are affiliated to Queen's 
University. The Collegiatt; Institute represents two older High Schools; and among 
the school-boys etlucatetl in them, Kingston boasts the premiers of the Province and 
the Dominion. 

When L^pper Canada became a sei)arat<! province, Kingston might be said to have 
been the Jlrst capital, for it was hert;, — in an old wooden church fronting the market- 
place, — that Ciovernor .Simcoe was sworn into office, his first cabin(;t chosen, and the 
writs issued to conveni! the I.egislative Assembly which met at Niagara, i)revious to 
meeting mo e permanently at York. The city also had the distinction of i)eing the seat 
of Government of the United Provinces of Upper and Uow(;r Canada, from the union 
in 1840 until 1S44, the Legislature meeting in the edifice opposite the \\(\\\ buildings of 
Queen's College, which is now, perhaps, more; usefully occupieil as the City 1 lospital. 
The impetus received from th(! residence of the government officials was followed 
by a corresponding depression on their removal. Nor was the prosperit) of the place 
increased by the building of the (irand Trunk Railway. It has been benefited much 
more by the Kingston and PiMiibroke Railway, a nt!w line that opens up a region 
formerly inaccessible, of much natural beauty and great natural riches, though at first 
sight it looked unpromising enough. To this wild and rocky district the well culti- 
vated townships on the Mav of Quinte offer a striking contrast, not often seen within 
the limits of one county, even in Canatla. It is studded with ijicturesfpie litth; lakes, 
one of which, Sharbot Lake, is already a favourite resort on account of its scenery 
and its resources as a fishing ground. Rocky tracts and ridges, that at first were con- 
sidered worthless, contain lead, phosphates, and immense deposits of iron. When all 

•I I : 



I'lCTl RliSQl li CAX. I/). I. 

Ills i()uiitr\ in 

he rvdv IS tull\ I 

1('\(I(i|)(h1, Kiiv^sloii, ti)f natural port <(l transliipmi'iit 

()|- cvcrvthiiu 


It (Dmcs l)\ rail, or l>\ the wiiuliinj \\a\ ol the Kiclcau Canal, 


attain a ijrcalur ilc'rcc ol miportamc than it has \v\. drcami'il ol 

just al)o\i' the lon;^ liii(iL;(' wliicii spans the cinlioiiiliiirc ol the Cataraqiii. there 
stretches a reach ol placiil river, hetween i^rtHMi, slopini,^, and often wooded hanks, 
a rank i^rowtii ol reeds ,ind rnslu-s in many plaies nearly lilliiii; up llu; stream. Here, 

a hoat ina\ wind its \\a\ tor niih^s in an absolute solitudi', <inl\' a wild i 


or a 

Heron hrc 

akiii'' the stillness of the sci-n 

ollowiiii' tiiis iiuiet ri\('r lor six miles from 

Its uiiu'tmn with the 

cascade, wliicli, e\'en 

I loamiiiL 

St. l.awrenct', we reach a hold, rorky ,s;or^e, framing;' 
\ct, is a pnitv waterfall, thous^h hemmed in 1)\- artifu^al snrrouml- 
in;.^s, and made to look liki: a sort ol appeiulane to a mill. The ahrupt rock\ hanks 

ire the most romantic leatui 

.f tl 

le scene, 


almost she(.'r al)o\e the rucr. 

clad with a taiiLile ol loliaLjc and creepers, 

lust b 

kIow are the gates ol the Ivuleau 
n ascent ol torl\-li\e feet. 

Canal which begins here, and is carried by ti\'e locks up a 
Sus|ieiided abo\c the i;ori;e is the iron line of the (irand i runk Railwa\' britl^', two 
of the L;real<!St pul)lic works of Canaila lieint^- thus ri;presented at this point. W'alkiiii; 
across the bridge, we i^ct from its giddy height a pretty bird's-eye view of the winding 
Catara(pii, with Kingston in the distance, beyond marshy Hats, whose \ellow tint in 

autumn contrasts richh' with the so 

)ft 1)1 

ue ol skv and n\er 

h('re is nowhere to be tMijo\ed a more delightfid day's sail than 

that fro 



ingstoii down the ri\cr. The traveller starts in the earl\- tlawn of a summer niorn- 
)ldeii o\er tin- line of high land on the opposite shore of the 

as the sun rise 


the WK 

(■ lake str(;tchinyf cal 

m ami <nass\- in 

the blue distance to the 


le opposite islands s 


out clear in 


eir relative; positions. 

(iartleii Island, 

ith its I'luster ol shippiiiL 


front, behiiul it Sinicoe Island to the west, witii the 

Jui/raii Channel bt:twecn it and Wolfe Island, whose green fields and clumps of shady 


d f 

trees and scattered larm-lious(;s e.xtend down tlie ri\-ei 


for t 

went\- miles. Kingston rises 

on Its gentle slope, the cool 

■V buildings and slender spires catchiiv'' the warm ijlow 

of the level suiibeaiiis. I'ar to the right, bexond the long bridge, the winding Cataratjiii 

shows a misi\- blue betwc:eii the lii'di sjreeii hanks that eiul in th 

e LrOl-jrc" 

It K 



cit\' buildiiii's. the Court IIo 




tower o 

f () 

ueiMi s 



sit\-, catch the (;\x> as it travi 

llanked b 


Is back along the fringe of shipping towards a point, 
■ft, while, farther back, the outlines of 

ello tower, at tin; extreme 



urns can be trac( 


111 the distance 


iposite to the city rises the slope 


{arrieheld. with its L;re\- 


ower, and the undulating "comiinui" rising gradually 


to the; I'"ort I I ill, while b(:l\ 

wiMMi tins and the cit\-, runs out the long level | 


on which-- irrai 

iated b\- the earl\- sunshii 

-stand the old 

uid new iiiiiHhnsjs o 


f the 




i'urning the point made by the I'^ort Hill, with its embankment and sally-ports, 

/• ox/\u</o. 




\vc: i^liile swiftly past 
Cedar Islaiul. with its 
Marlcllo towiT, ami 
the ri\<'i" chaiiiH'l — sdiiu; 
fourtrcii miles wide — is 
tairly entered. Cedar Islam 
lirst shows tile peculiar eon- 
lour ami lormalion ol " T 
riiousaml Islands," i^ri'\- ^ium 
encrusted with moss and 
liearinj;' a low. luxuriant vcget 
of hirch and cedar and 
shruhhery. .\ short distance 
Gananoijue, the island mazes hes^in, 
with hold, L^rey rocks tufted with 
dark pines, or little hoskv clusters 
of foliai;(.' nc'stlin^' close to the clear 
blue wa\'es. On a calm summer 

morniiii^r, when the rich and \aried colourinL;s of j^ranite rocks, with o\-erhani;in!^ foliage 
of every shade of li\in;^ oiccn, are rellectetl in the j^lassy river, which the steamer's 
swell raises — no/ /ucdks — into hin;;' heavy undulations, the sccMie is like fair\-laml. 

The first mention of these islands is made in the report of the expedition by 

rin Kivi-.k-siDi:, ni-iot:Kvu.i,i-;. 




i I ii 


PIC 1 Y A' ESQ LIE CA N, I/). I. 

M. di' ('(iiirce-llcs aj,';iinst the Mohawk Indians in 1665-6, wIkto they arc spoixcn of 
with am tiling; l)iit achniralion. \Vc arc toM tiial tiicy "have nothinj; ayrcuablc httyonij 
tiicir iniihiliidi'," and lliat tluy "arc only hu^c rocks risint^ out of the \vat»'r, coxcrcd 
incrcl) l)y moss, or a few s|)rucc or other stiMU<'d wood, wliosc loois sprinu from tlic 
clefts of the roiks. wliich can sniipi) no otlicr aliment or moisture to these barren tri'cs 
than what the rains furnish them," and the locality is farther referred to as "a m(;lan- 
choly ahode." Irom ihese hints it would .ippear that, two hundred \'cars ai^o, the 
comparativel) vounn vegetation, that now makes the chief beauty of the scenery, may 
have been onl\' beijjinnini; to estai)lish itsell, and that, with but a scanty and stunteil 
f()liaj,;;e. the rockx wilderness presented but little attraction. h'rom the l'"ri'nch explor- 
ers — it is saiil from C'hami)laiu liie archipelajro took its nanu' of "/,<?( </is J/M' /s/cs," 
tiioiij^h the "thousand" is far luiiler th(- real numlxrr. Recent tra\clU:rs, however, 
includiniL; the Duke of .\r!.;yll, have been ilisap|)ointed in the comparative tameness anil 
monotony of the " 1 housaiul Islands" as cursorily seen from the deck of a steamer. 
And, intleed, forty miles of them is apt to produce the loiijoins pcidrix feelinj; which 
attacks the traveller even on the Rhine, aflc;r a lon;^, uid)roken courst; of ruined 

castles. I'he beauty is that of a 
succession of charminy vignettes, 
rather than of any one grand 
picture, and the way to see and 
feel it is to sojourn among them, 
watching tlu'ir ever-changing as- 
pects from day to day. \'ou 
should see them gloritieil in the 
extpiisite ethereal tints of dawn 
before they " fade into the light 
of common ila\'," and watch thai. 
again, deepen into tlu; rosy sun- 
set glow, which often makes the 
placid river relied their beauty from "a sea 
of glass mingled with tire," ere it merges 
into the i)urple gloaming through which the 
fire-lly darts its living light, and the plaintive 
refrain of tile whip-poor-will adds pathos to 
the beauty of the summer eve. Or, when 
the full moon rises behind one of th(! dark 
islands, throwing its mysterious chiaroscuro over the sccMie, making a broatl, ipiivering 
pathway of fretted -silver, on which the islands show like silhouettes. — their wavy out- 
lines of foliage marked out in shadow on the silver sea below. Better, still, if you can 


/wis /'/-AW ONTARIO. 


w.iikNt ilii\- after il.u luiKmi^ tlif liiddcn rocks an<l rcrcisscs of lln' island lal)yriiulis, 
L-xploriiij^ tile myriad l>caiity of lichoned granite;, and moss, and \iMc, and llowcr, and 


berry, as well as of the f<)liai,rc llial clusters in rich masses ot \tMilur(;, or dips into 
tlu- ijlassy wave ; or, ouiilinL; your tin\ skiff tlirouifli tile narrowest of channels, or 
the most fair\-like of co\es, wiiere the limpid water ripples oxer the pure white sand, 
or holds in its sluuled and shailowy hasin a cluster of dei'p-Ljn'en lea\es and snowy 
water-iili(-'s. Then, indeed, their yeiitie l)eaut\' Ljrows (U1 sou, awA in the coup 
(ftf/7 fi'om any ele\;it(;d point the eye iinconsciousK' reads into the ilistant outlines 
the |)ictures(|ue dt'tails with which it has alreatly thrown familiar. Xor must we 
tori.(et the richer ljeaut\' which the melhjwiiii; touch of autumn throws o\(:r the 
scen(\ when it tuiMis the delicate j^reen of the birch to ,L;oid, and clothes the maple; in 
llame colour and scarlet till it seems like the burnintj bush of .Moses, and llushes tlu; 
oak to a rich russet or winey reil,--whili; the dee|> i)lood-red hue ot tlu; low sumach 
marks some of the smaller islands with a line of crimson. 

One of the pleasantest points for making a closer ac(|uaintance with llu' islands, — 
on the Canadian side, -is the thrivinir villa<re of (lanaiuxiue, about which the\ are 


cturescpiely Ljrouped. The name of the place is, of, Indian, sii^nifyi 


m ileei) water. 



r of the same name, w'hich winds through the back 

country, tiiul 

Is it 

s wa\- nen; in 

to the; St. La 

w re nee 

l)etwt;en hiLrh abrupth-sh 


aiul il(;scends a steep ledge in what was ';nce a spontaneous waterfall, but IU)W is i)Ut into 
hariu;ss and made to serve as so much "water-power" to drive numerous factories. 
Some twenty miles back, near the source of the Gananoque River, lies a prettily wood- 



1: \ 



\ ■ 



y> 1 



/■:. I s /■/■:/< \ o.v /-.lA'/o. 






<•(! slicct (il waicr (all<(l C'liailt ,I(im Lake, a resort ol s[i()ii-,iMrii duriiii; llw shootiiiy 

Perhaps the most |iiitiires(|ue Ml of ilic isl.iiul lal)\rinlli lies alioiit a sudden lieiid, 
called I'idler's I'.lhow, ulien' llie ( iiaiinel is too narrow tor the iarj^cr steanilioats, hut 
down wliicli an arro\v\' little excursion-lioat darts ami winds, passing close to rich masses 
of lolia-e mirrored in the still waters, or liold ruddy rocks llerked with the e\i|uisite 
pale j^reys or L;reens ol encrustliiL; lit hens, or still, shadow\ lia\s, kissed l)\ overhauL^inn' 
birch and cedar-hou^dis, or hristlin^r we.ilher-lieaten cra^s, inftid with solemn |iinis. Or, 
suddenlv, we lonie Upon a Chinese-lookini^ cluster of summer \illas, willi |).i:;()d,is, hriducs, 
and the other welldsuown features <if the willow-|)attern plate; or lon;^ avenues of tents 
and c()ttajr(!S and the busy dock of a liustlim^ -summer r<'soit, like the "Thousand Island 
Park" on Wells' Island; or the lari^c L^ay hotels of Alexandria lias, where one may 
step from the tmtouched wilderness of Nature's solitudes, into all the arlilicial devclop- 
ments of American fashionable life. The " Thousand Island I'ark" is a imiipie (olleclion 
of tents, lij^ht-woodcMi summer-houses, and a handsome Norman hotel, with a Um^ 
street of boat-houses extending; from its pier aloui; the water's ed^^e. It has ,ilso a 
larj^rc " 'I'abernacle" or canvas ciuirch, -its original plan as a Camp (ii-ound indudin^r 
a series of relit,nous meetinjrs. At the lower t'ud of the same island, ,dioui eiL;ht miles 
distant, is the (iuiet(;r '• Westminster I'ark," showiuL; a tall chun h-tower abo\c the 
trees. This island was the scene of the burninj; of the .S'/r Rohcrl l\cK in i,Sj;,S, by a 
band of .\merican outlaws, headed b\- "Hill Johnson," a kind of political Robin Hood, 
who had conceiveil the idea of bestow in^; on Canada the boon nf freeilom and a 
Rei)iiblican (iovernnu'iil. ihe story of his darinj^r and devotid (hup^hter " Kate," who 
rowed him from hidinj,'-place to hidiui^-place amon^ the islamls, and kept him supplied 
with food, Ljive a touch of the charm of legend and adventure to iliese rockv mazes. 
Cooper has chosen them as one of the sc(.'nes of ids novel, •'ihe I'athtinder " ; and 
Moore has also iouch<-d them with his silver-tongued muse. 

Helow Well's Island, away to eastward, the St. Lawrence opens in a wider 
vista, with iiere ami there a distant island softl\- outlined ai^ainst the soft tunpioise 
blue. Down this widening- channel the lari;c ri\'er steamers i^lide on, still amid granite 
isles on either hand, till at List the lon^; succession ends, and we steam up close to 
the line of pretty villas that skirt the town of Hrockville. IIimc the river fairly p.irts 
company with the rocky isles amid which it has been dreamini;-, and becomes for a 
time a comparatively strait,dnforward and prosaic stream, with nothin^^ very striking 
about it or its slightly rising shores, 

.About a mile below the town of Prescott, chiellv notable as the t<M-minus of the 
Prescott and Ottawa Railway, we pass a point of land on which stands a white-washed 
stone tower, pierced by narrow loop-holes, and now used as a light-house. This is the 
historic •'Windmill" which, in November, 1S37, ligured as the stronghold of the 

i ''% 

il \ 



"Patriots," under the rommand of a Polisli advcnturi'r, callc<l \'on Srluiltz. They held 
the mill for several ilays as^ainst the Mritish forces, muier Col. Duiulas, hut were at 
last routed and compelled to surrender at discretion. Durinj; the action the opposite 
shore was lined with s|)ectators, who cheeretl whenever the insurgents ajipeared to 
have the advantage. I'oor \'on Schultz, with nine others of the huiulreil and ten 
prisoners, was hanged at I-'ort HiMiry after a c.nirt-martial,— a victim to the ]>olitical 
treachfM-y of those who had led him to undertake the mad enterprise and then aban- 
doned him to his fate. In our days he would have met with no harder measure than 
that meteil to Arabi Pasha. 

A few islands in miilstream, some of them prettily wooilrd. are all that vary 
the blue stretch of ri\er until the cpiickening current of tlu- (ialoups Rapids i)reaks 
the dreamy calmness of the stream, — a pleasant foretaste, of the larger rajiids to 
come. .\ canal runs along the shore for the accommodation of small boats. At its 
eastern extremity lies the i)rosperoiis village of Cardinai, formerly l*Mwardsbm-g, — 
notable for- its cons])icuous starch factory. Near this place the river (piickly narrows, 
till at one ])oint it is only five hundred feet wide. 

We are now passing, to the left, the old county of Dundas, associated, like King- 
ston, with the first settlement i)f the country by the staunch l'. IC. Loyalists, as well 
as with some of the most stirring of Canadian warlike associations. C)\w experiences 
are of a far more ])acitic character,— -nuMiiories of bowi'r\' orchards lailen with blushing 
blossoms, (>f (piiet, setpiesterei' farm-houses, oi green lields, with land)s ami cahcs at 
play. Just as we come in si, t of Morrisburg, with its many slender s|)ires rising- 
above the embosoming woods, the river, sweeping round a lurve, tliscloses beautiful 
wooded islands niarked with white birchen stems, aroiuul which the cn'sted waves of 
the Kapid Du Plat are seen, swirling in deep-green eddies iieneath the luxuriant 
foliage that overhangs the stream. Some two or three miles iulow tlie village, 
close b\- a house that stands emi)ossed in foliage, is a cur\ing point, and 
it a low, irregular ravine. This, with the adjoining groimd, is the scene of the 
decisive .action of Chrysler's barm, gallantly citntested on Novem!)er 11, iSi;,, between 
American troops and a small bodv of iiritish regulars, reinforced b\ Canadian vohm- 
teers and militia and a handful of Indians. Many of the dead were bm-ic^d in common 
graves, where now green orchard-boughs bend over dappled stretches of emerald turf. 

Passing a number of little scattered villages, a pictures(pie point, called Woodlands, 
catches the eye, Mw. long, the increasing rapidity of the current ami the bolder 
shon.-, give token that we are nearing the grand r.ipid of the Long Sault. Anon we 
see the white coursers in the distance, tossing aloft their snowy manes, and feel the 
strong gri]) of xXw. current. A tlensely-wooded island divides the foaming w.iters. We 
rush at headlong speed down the south channel, — the other, calliil the "lost channel," 

seeming to toss its waves 

in delianc; 

)f th< 

)ld hand which might trv to guide a 

n \VL' 



boat down the rajjinor waters. Those onit wliicli wc safcl)- ride are jjraiul cnoui^h. 
Cireat . ystal masses of eineralil water leap to meet us, catcl> us 011 tlieir l)reasts, aiul 
carr\- us on willi a swift undiilatory motion lik<' tlial of a raie-liorst', wliik- a sliower 
of foamy spray ilasiies o\'er the vessel. 'I"hi: LjriH'n-c csted wa\( s seem to he rushinjj; 
in the opposite direction to the current, an effect caused by the retreatim^ eddies it 
creates in dashintr over the hidilen rock below. Hut our ijreat sea-iiorses carry us on, 
till, all too soon, the foaming crests are li-ft behind, and we glide into smooth water 
and |)ast the stee|) siiles of tlu; island of .St. Regis, inhabited by a little' colony of 
Indians, who look very |)rosaic in their ordinary civilized a'tire. 

At the (.'astern entrance end of tin; Cornwall Canal, which all craft must use on the 
ascending journe)', since none could hope to stem the I-ong .Sault, stands the town 
of Cornwall, which, in rt^cent y<'ars, has developed into a manufacturing centre, — its 
enormous blanket faclor\- anil cotton-mill Ixnng the conspicuous features of the place. 
Near it runs the "Province Line," and we pass out of l'"astern ( )ntario into Ouebec. 
Near the same point, also, th.e boundary line, which di\id(,'s Canaila from the I'nited 
States, recedes from the St, Lawrence. Moth sides of the ri\er, gradualK' opening into 
the witle expansion of Lake St. I'rancis, are prettily diversified with woods and farms, 
while bosky islands at intervals affiirtl a welcome retreat for campers, -white tents and 
light summer residences gleaming pleasantly under the trees b\- the river-siile. On the: 
li'ft bank, we pass the little town of Lancaster. .Some miles inland, are llu; old Scotch 
settlements of Martintown and Willi-'mstown. On the ri^ht shon; are Dundee, I'"ort 

Covini'ton, the .Salmo 

s.i\(r, a region ongmally peoj 


jeoiiled also b 

)\ relusJ'ees 


Connecticut or the ••reen \alle\- of tlu; Mohawk, —or bv stunK' Scotch immi<'rants, who 

nave >'i\t:n 

to tl 

leir new nonu^s nam 

es that perpetuate tin? old ones. One settlement 

is called the " Isle of Sk\e," from the nund)(;r of colonists fr( 




.•ho f; 


its fertile act 

Hut the chief gl(n-\- of tl 

le s; 

il d 


Lake St. I' 

rancis is 


e ilistant mountain 



lie a 

.gainst the horizon. Idling up the lack which tl 

le e\'e lias xaLTueh' 



the flat, unbroken horizon which boumls the greater part of Out; 


IS the 

uiguay range, 

a spur of tln' .Vilirondack^ 

sometimes (.irawiiiij; nearer, some- 

times recedinir into cloud-like indistinctness. .At tlu! lower eiul of the lake, wc draw 

ip by the long wooden pier of Coteau du Lac, whose stra 


row of little I'rench 



ses, looking still smaller in contrast 



th tl 

le i: 

reat stone church aiu 

1 i:l 


spire, gives evidence that we an; now in l'"rench Canada. .\ charming picturi; does 
this old Coteau make as seen at sunset 

on the return trip, -when Laki 


St. \- 


as a mi 

Tor, rellects the rich crim 

sons and purples 

)f the descend 

\\v' sun. whiu 


the old brown tii.dieis of the pier, ami the ecjually old and brown ImciuIi Canadian 
houses, with the ratlier Dutch-looking boats moored by the pier, — "" a picture 
to which only a Turiu'r could tlo full justice. 



\ '''51 






On the southern shore, opposite to the Coteau, is the distant town of Valleyfield, 
with its huge cotton-mill, ai the upper end of the Beauharnois Canal. A little farther 
down, the shore grows bolder, and we see and feel the quickening current of the 
" Cedars " Rapids. We sweep past a richly-wooded island, — the foliage almost dripping 
in the tossing waters, Hy past a sharp curve, and the eddying water springs forward 
as if to oppose our progress, — in vain, the last foam-crested wave is behind, and a 
calm stretch intervenes. A little farther on, the silvery "Cascades flash" in the sun, — 
broken only by rocky islets, round which the rapids toss and rave, while high on 
the shore, a picturesque church-tower rises above a mass of deep-green woods. Soon, 
we find ourselves out upon Lake St. Louis, while far to our left is the famous 
St. Anne of the Boat-song, where the great brown stream of the Ottawa comes 
out from its dark hills, mingling, not blending, with the blue St. Lawrence, and 
sending a portion of its stream round the northern side of the triangula island of 
Montreal which we are approaching. On the southern shore, on a high mound, stands 
a cross for mariners to look to in time of peril, — a mute witness of human need and 
aspiration. Calm and shadowy the mountain range lies behind undulating masses cf 
wood, lighted up by the slanting rays of the afternoon sun, or deepened in tir.t by 
the shadow of a passing cloud. Far ahead looms a blue shadowy mass, the " moun- 
tain " of Montreal. By and by, other cloudy blue hills rise on the horizon, Belceil, 
St. John, and the sugar-loaf of Mount .Shefford. The traditional Indian pilot, in a suit 
of black, glides out in his boat from Caughnawaga, and the steamer slackens speed to 
take him on board. The current of the river grows swifter, breaks in curves, and circles 
past tlat, bushy islands ; — then, sweeping round a curve, we see ahead a glittering sheet 
of snowy breakers, in which nestle two little green islets washed by the spray. The 
headlong rush of the river bears us towards the treacherous ledge-broken rock, in 
some places left bare by the foaming rapids, shelving on one side, boldly abrupt on 
the other. We fly rapidly through the eddies, between Scylla and Charybdis, and in 
a few moments are gliding into water calm by comparison. This rajjid lias not the 
grandeur of the Long Sault, nor the glittering rush of the Cascades ; but the treacher- 
ous swirling waters, and the half-hidden rocks that we seem almost to graze, make it 
one of the most fascinating and dangerous. 

But we speedily forget the perils of the rapids as we pass the beautiful wooded 
shore of Nun's Island, with its shady green pastures, and come upon the royal-looking 
city. On the opposite shore, behind the villages of Laprairie and Longueuil, rise the 
isolated mountains of Montarville, Rougemoiit, Shefford, and the nearer Belceil, " bathed 
in amethystine bloom." We take a wide sweep in front of the cit), and come into 
port near the island of St. Helen's, past great hulls of ocean steamers and full-rigged 
ships, where the old weather-stained Bonsecour's Market, and still older Bonsecour 
Church, bid us welcome back to Montreal. 




: I 

t ] 



jjfe'?^'^-- ■ ""^Wi 

.: .■ iS**'.' 


!' ^■.^ 



OTRETCHING away south-easterly from the St. Lawrence to the New England 

^^ frontier, and on other two sides bounded by the Rivers Richelieu and Chaudiere, 

lies one of the fairest tracts of Old Canada. I'orminsr the core of it, lie the freeholds 

of the Eastern Townships; and they are fringed on three sides by the old fiefs of Louis 

XIV. Altogether, there may be ten thoiisand scjuare miles in the tract. A land of 

liver and plain; of mountain, and tarn, and lake, and valley; but first and chiefly a 

river-land. Along its northern shore sweeps the mighty St. Lawrence, now deploying 


1 i ■■ i 

r. 1 

'' 1 




■;^ I 







Into a lake ten miles wide, and then callint; in Iiis battalions for tlial majestic, resistless 
marcli to the sea. Ami down to the swellim^- tide of tlu; St. Lawrence; hasten — besides 
brooks or streams innumerable half a dozen i^oodK ri\HTs, the Richelieu, N'amaska, St. 
I'^rancis, Nicolet, Hecuicourt, Chaudiere. Were we to climb tlicsc ri\rrs throui^h their 
beautiful winilin<4' glens, we should meet foamini; rapids and di//\ cascades; then (|uiet 
pools within lofty walls of verdure, and delii^htful siiatlowetl reaches where speckled trout 
still linger; yet higher .imong the mountains we. should find such romantic lakes as 
Hronie, Memphremagog, Massawippi, and Megantic, 

Throughout liiis land, the strata ha\i' i)i'en much shakim ;ind changed by some 
Titanic force, seem'ngl\- steam lieated l)eyond the scale of any p\rometer, ami tortured 
under pressun; whii would l)e inatlecpiately gaugeil l)y thousands of tons to tile scpiare 
inch. .Sir William Logan tracetl a line of dislocation from Missis(pu)i \\a\ on Lake 
Cliain[)lain to I'oinl Levis, along which tiie wrenching asunder of strata is (■(piivalenl 
to a vertical displaciMiient of man\- thousands of feet. Westward of this line of 
rupture, — which we shall call Logan's Line, tile sedimentary rocks that were directly 
exposed to incandescent steam softened, rearranged their el(!m(!nts, anil ran to a 
glassy or ston\ paste. I'luler the enormous ju-essure below, the surface strata |)reseiith- 
cracked and sometimes opened wide. Inst.intix', into the cracks and fissures rusht^d tli( 
p.istN' rock, foiMiiing d\kes of traclnte or diorite. In places, tli<' \ery gi-anite founda- 
tions of the world seem to lia\c softened, and followed the sedimentary rocks to the 
surfaci'. Whert! the ground yielded most, staleK pyramids of mountain-protoplasm were 
liorn. It is to such throes of Mother I'^arth wi' owe the beautiful sisterhood ol lU:loil 
.Mountain and \'aniaska, Rougemont and .Mount Monnoii- ; the Bouclier\ille Mount.iiiis, 
:i'"d Mont l\o\al itself. I'.astward of Logan's Line, more intense still must lia\e been 
the t'nergy tiiat girdled Lake Memphreniagog with such soaring pt'aks as Mount 
Orford, Owl's Head, and Elephantis. Within historic times, some seven' earthipiakes 
ha\e shaken this area, but even tli<; most violent wen; gcMitle pastime compared 
with thi; elemental wars of geological anli(|uit\'. To bi; sure, every on(; was friglitt;ned 
b)' these earthtpiakes, but then no one was killed, b'rom the records of tin; old Jesuit 
Mission on the .St. IVancis, we learn that on the fifth of September, 17;,.:, the Lidian 
V'illage was so rutli'ly shaken as to destroy its identity; of this " bouleversement," 
traces are still discernibli; on both sides of the river. More general, antl far more 
violent, was the famous earthquake of 166;. On the fifth of l'"ebruar\-, beg.ui a series 
of convulsions w'hicli did not quite disappear till midsumni.;r. Land-slides occurred all 
along the river-banks, and the blue St. Lawrence ran white as far ilown as Tadousac. 
Every one explained tlu; [)henomenon in his own way. .\t Montreal, not a few con- 
sciences w'ere smitten for having sold tire-wat(;r to the Indians. The Indians, however, 
declared that the shades of their forefathers were struggling to r(;turn to the earthly 
Hunting Grounds ; and, most undutifully, they kept tiring off their muskets to scare their 





unquiet sires ; for, ciiiotli tlic musketeers, it's plain to see there's not i^ame enouyjh 
on earth for holh of us I 

Some ancit-nt hiirl\-l)uri\- of tiu- roci<s has Iicn; broui^iit witiiin eonvenirnt reacii 
a vast \ariety of thinj^^s useful or ornanKMUal. If you are house-huiklinu^, nou have 
limestont; for the foundation, clax' for l)ric'l<s, ami sand and lime fi)r mortar; yranitc^ for 
the lintels and wimlow-sills, or for iIk.' whole house if you lik(! ; mai;nesite for cements ; 
slate for j-our roof ; serpentine' and \eril-auli(pu' for your mantles. I'hen, as for 
metals, \V(; tind chromic iron at Melbourne, and in Bolton and Ham; manLianese in 
Stanstead ; the copper ore of .'\cton has long been famous ; and gold has been found 



in notable quantity on the upper course of the Chaucliire, and around its fountain, 
Lalce Mcgantic. Not even are jrems altoj^ether absent ; jasper is found at Siierbrooiie ; 
and beautiful little green garnets, like miniature emeralds, have been picked up in Orford. 

This land was first seen of Europeans three centuries and a half ago. i.i t us 
for a little view it through the keen, searching eyes of Captain Cartier, the famous 
St. Malo seaman. He had a few days ago reached Stadacona, the Indian precursor of 
Quebec. Donnacona, the Indian lord of the soil, tried to dissuade him from going 
farther ; but, laughing aside all fears and obstructions, Cartier would i-xplore for him- 
self the great river of Hochelaga, and woukl see that Indian metropolis of uhicli the 
fame had reached liim down by the Gaspe shore. On tlie 19th of S(!pt('ml)<r, 
1535, leaving the two largest of his three vessels in the River St. Ciiarles, the (■.\ph)rer 
pushed up stream with two boats and the /:mcri//oii. This ship was nami^l from tlie 
little falcon that in England was called the Merlin : — indeed, a craft of forty tons 
would seem to us a land-bird, rather than a l)ir(l of the ocean. Over the .St. Lawrence 
now hover great sea-fowl, of more than a hundrcMl times the Mcrliiix tonnage; ; but 
pray remember it was the Merlin led the way. The staunch little shij) had bravely 
ridden the violent storms of the outward passage ; outliving on(; of her consorts, she 
woukl return to braiice ; anil, si.\ jears hence, she would again be put in commission 
for Cartier's third cruise to Canada. 

In tile discoverer's party were not only weather-beaten tars of Normandy and 
Brittany, but souk; of the young iioNrssc of the court of l'"rancis the I'irst. There 
were Claude du Pont-Iiriant, — Chief Cup-bearer to the Dauphin, — Charles de la I'om- 
meraye, and others of the Jeiinessc dori'c of that gay epoch. TluMr dreams were of 
romantic adventure, and, at the farther end, rich Cathay, or, as they called it. La Chine ; 
to these Argonauts La Chine was the land of the Golden Fleece, and now they were 
surely on the roatl thither. If you ascend the St. Lawrence on a sunny afternoon in the 
autumn, the chances are that you, too, may fall into some such day-dream. As the rock 
of Quebec faded from sight, the river-banks became clothed with such loveliness as 
stirred the .St. Malo seaman. There were park-lands wooded with " the most beautiful 
trees in the world " ; and the trees were so trellised with vines and festooned with 
grapes that it all seemed the work of man's hand. Indeed, human dwellings now 
became numerous, and fishermen were seen taking frequent toll of the river. With 
great heartiness and good-will the natives brought their fish to Cartier's little stpiadron. 
Presently a sharp current was felt on reaching the river-elbow that now bears the 
classical name of Poinlc P/aton. Just above was a sanlt, as yet only known or named 
of Indians, but a century later its hurrying waters would reflect the unipiiet spirit 
of the time, and be called the Richelieu Rapid. It is still the custom with our sailors 
to wait for the flood-tide in taking this dangerous gateway. The little Merlin wisely 
dropped anchor. 

so U TII-EA S TL'A'.V (J UElil-C. 


" Sciirce CDiild Arjjo sU'in it ; wluTflore they, 
It heing but early, arulioreil till mid-day, 
And as they waited, saw an eddy rise 
Where sea ji)ine<l river, and lielore their eyes 
'I'lie hattli: ol tin- waters did lieyiii. 
So, seeing the mighty ocean liest therein, 
\Vei({li1iij; their anchor, they made haste tr iian 
lloth oars and sails, ,ind therewith Hying, ran 
With the lirst wave of the great conquering llood 
I'ar up the stream, on whose banks forests stootl 
D.nkening the swirling water on each side." 

While the I''rcnch explorers still lay at anchor they were encompassed by a flotilla 
of canoes. One brought the Grand Seigneur — as Cartier calls him — of the country, which 
is now occupied by the Mastern Townships and the enclosing seigniories. His village 
on I'ointe I'laton was called Ochelay. liy signs and gesticulations the Indian chief 
pictured the dangers of the rapid. y\s a conclusive proof of his sincerity, the lord 
of Ochelay offered the l*"rench cominandcr two of his children for ailoptioii ; and 
Cartier chose a little girl of seven or eight years. The poor mother's heart seems to 
have been ill at ease ; for, when the explorers returned to Ouebec, she went down 
the river to see how it fareil witli her child. 

Cartier's journal antl description of the Ste. Croix River were, two centuries and a 
iialf ago, read to mean that the discoverer spent the woful winter of 1535-6 under Pointe 
Flaton, and that his vessels lay in the estuary of the river which enters the St. Lawrence 
from the opposite bank. So that to this day the parish on the south bank is called 
Ste. Croix, and the opposite river is called Jacques Cartier. iJut Champlain, in 1608, 
cleared up this ([uestion by finding near Quebec the remains of Cartier's winter en- 
campment, and three or fotir cannon-balls. When, despite the Convention of Susa, 
Admiral Kirkt pounced on Ouebec, it set Champlain thinking that if ever he got 
Canada back, the country would have more than one bastion for its defence. Resto- 
ralion ha\iiig been made by the Treaty of .St. Germain, the Governor set to work, in 
1633, and fortified the little island that commands the gateway of Pointe Platon, — - 
calling island and fort " Richelieti," in honour of the great Cardinal who had just 
chartered the " New Company of One Hundred Associates." More than two centuries 
ago, Champlain's Fort Richelieu had already mr •' lercd into oblivion, but river pilots 
still call the swirling water here the Richelieu Rapid. In early days the island pro- 
duced such a profusion of grapes, that Cartier's description of Orleans Island was 
misapplied to Isle Richelieu, thus completing the confusion in the discoverer's narrative. 
And this brings us back to 1535. 

After passing the rocky gateway of Pointe Platon the St. Lawrence widened, and 
then the country seemed to our jason and his Argonauts a very land of enchantment. 



No \v(jiuU:r. llic jifcMiiiil Sc|)tcml)(;r sim, the cloiiillcss skies, tlic liliic ualcrs of the 
mighty river here t;ciuly ilrawinjf llu- sliores miles apart; and tlieii tiie lowerin^^ 
forests on I'itlwir l)aiil< with liicir loii^r \ istas of verdure ami romantic j^jloom, — the St. 
Malo seaman mi),du wi'll declare it "as fair a land as heart conM desire!" Cartier and 
his lirother-in-la\v, Mark jalolierl. were practised pilots. With their yawls and sonnd- 
in,i;-lines tlu'y would speedily tind that the channel lay half a leaj^ue off the south 
bank. .'\l times the\ were inMr enouj^h to distinj^uish our native trees. There were seen 
lordly oak-forests, th(t memory of which is still preserved in the two Rivieres t/ii C/n'm: 
As tlu! Mil/ill climbeil the river, the south bank fell, and then there were state- 
ly elms whose lonj,'' tresses .-.wayed in the breez(! and toyed with the lauj^hini^ 
water. W'ithin reccssi's of tlu; shore were ilescri(;d wild swans swimmini^ anion;,' 
the willows. b'rom the marshes beyond rose cranes and the threat blue heron, 
disturbed in their dreams by this inauspicious Merlin, startled from their ancient 
haunts bj' the s|)eclre of ci\ilization ! The younj^ "i^ciiti/z homines" must ;,'o ashore 
anil spy out this Land of Promise ; and like those; who in the ancient days spienl out 
Canaan, oiu' adventurers returned from this X'alU-y of b.shcol fairly borne; down with a 
load of i^rapes. In their excursions they thou^dit they had seen the sky-lark soarin;,' 
from tlu; meadow-land. While within the shadow of the walnut-trees, da\-dreams of dear 
Old France came strong upon them, and they declared that in this New ]•' ranee there 
were the same sweet warblers as thi;y many a time heard -but, alas, some of them, [loor 
lads, would never hear ai^ain in the royal parks of St. (iermain and l'"ontainebleaii, — 
linnets, and thrushes, and blackb'-ds ; aye, and ronssiirnolz, -" ni^ditinjrales" ! Our melo- 
dious song-sparrow was mistaken for a nightingale ; so to this hour you may hear in 
old French Canada, and in the I'^astern Townships, the sweet notes of the " rossignol." 

Nine of these delightful September days were loitered away in e.xploring the St. Law- 
rence from the rock of Quebec to the fo.^t of a lake into which the river now opened. 
But to many, if not most, of those gallant {nVow-,, ~" /es prineiputi/x et lioits conipaij^iioiis 
que nous eiissioiis," says Cartier, br :sh:ng away a tear, — this vvould be their last summer 
upon earth ; then why liegrudge them a few sunny hours ? Their commandt r called the 
water into which thev' now glided /-ae (i\-liii^ouleiin\ doubtless after the ancestral earldom 
of Francis the Tirst. Si.\l\-eight summers later, Chamj^lain was exploring tli(! river anew, 
and, as he then supposed, for the first time. He reached this point on St. Peter's Day, — 
29th June, 1603, — and so from that hour to this the water has been called Lake St. Peter. 

What the earlier navigator viewed from the top of Mont Royal, Champlain ex- 
plored in detail. And first, that arrowy river which, after shooting past the towering 
Belixiil, entered Lake St. Peter. When the great Cardinal-Duke of Richelieu became 
"Chef, Grand Maislre, et Snr-Intentiant General of P>ench Commerce and Navigation," 
the River of the Iroquois and the archipelago at its mouth to(jk his name; but in 
1603, and all through Champlain's narratives and maps, this water-course is Riviere des 







Tliroiiuli woDcIs 1111(1 w.isir liiiuls (-li-rt l).v stormy suc.ims 

Fast yew-lr 

1(1 llu? heavy hair of |)m 

And where the (lew is thickest iimler oaks 

This way and that ; Ixu (Hiestiii}; ii| 

They saw 

111) and (k)wn 


With the aid of a light skill, Chainplain yoi two leagues farther, hut here met 




violent rapids, wliicli have since lieen levelled up by the jjreat dam at St. Ours. For 
the present his exploration must he al)andone(l ; hut six years later he was here 
a^ain. lie nuist ineanlinic (oniint himself with (|ui'stioninj^ llw Indians as to the un- 
discovered country to the sonili and west. In lan^uai^e that he hut imperfectly 
iimlcrslooil iliey told iiim ol a ciiain of laki s ; and sonndiiiLi ihrouj^li these lines of his 
narrative, we, in ioo_^, lor llie lirst limr recoi^ni/.i- ilic mij^hty \oice of the ilislant 
Niaj;aia. ( // dcsiiihi nil i^riiiiiHss/iiir toiiiiiiil i/'niii i/niis Ic dicl l,u.) 

At his second visit, (1009,) C'hamplain coasted in a more leisurely way the south 
shore ol I. .ike St. I'eter. lie explored lor some little ilistance the ri\crs I )upont 
(Nicolei), .md liennes (\'amaska), admirin^r their sicnery and the luxuriant vej^etation 
of thiir hanks, I li<' l)uponl we taki' to h.ivi' heen named, sexcnty-four years hefore, 
as a compliment to I )upoi\l-Hriaut, whom C'artier mentions amoni^ the youni^ noblesse 
of his llochelaj^a expedition. More than a centur\ afterwards- probahly in 1643 — 
this beautiful and romantic river was named anew ; this time, " Nicolet," after a much 
nobler and more ser\iic.d)le icliou- than the (.'hief L up-bearer to his llij;hness the 
Dauphin, H) the way, i>in- Most Serein; Dauphin found a sudden death in his cui)s, 

braniis the hirst declared that his son had 
been poisoned b\ the contrivance of his 
^reat adversary, the I'.mperor Charles \ ; 
but the cooler view of the m.ilter is that 
the youui; man took cramps Iroin tjulp- 
iui^ down ice -water. So pass olt the 
stai,rc |)auphin, his I'lanjniede, and our 
Ki\ci- I )upont I 
At his second visit C'hamplain rested two 
(hns at the mouth of the Richelieu. The 
Iroipiois of the Moliawk N'alley were niakins,' 
determined elTorts to regain tlieir ancient con- 
trol of 'he St. Lawrence. To the .M^oncpiin 
tribes n;>w in possession the arrival of a few 
I'iciuh warriors was a lucky windf.ill. Cham- 
plain above all thinijs t'esired to explore the 
count rv. and was thus bcL^uiled into leailiiiir an 
Al^oiKiuin for.'iv into the; inidiscovered land 
that la\ to the south. After his party 
had heartened themselves for comini; toils by 


abundant veniscm, fish, and tr;imc, he bc^.m the asicnt of the Richeli 





m uiv. 

1 60c 

On the lower 




(Is oaks am 

d walnuts towered aloft, antl 

croined out into trn 

at d 

f f< 

oiiK.-s ol lolia<'e. 

Into their sluulovvs "lided the flotilla; then 

S()l/7/./:.L\/ /AW ()/ I.IUU . 


Is hy 


. and 


into tlic deeper shadows of Milnil, which 

Cliainplain marked on his map as iiioiil 

fori. Now C'hamliU Ilasiii was (hscosereil 

witli its par(|iiet of nieaihiws and a risinjj 

aniphitlieatre of woods. .At ihe fartlier eml 

tile ri\-ei' entered then, as now, with foain- 

in;4 current, throwini.^ the lieaiilifid lake into gentle undulations, an<l on its hea\int; 

Ijosom islets of lirdlianl verdure shimmered like ein<'r,ilds. With inlinile fatij^ue a 

portaye was made lhrouL;h the forest around C h.imhly R.ipids, which are now so 

easii)' surmounted hv the L'hamMv' and St, Johns C anal, ,\l)o\c the lapids, in 

mid-river, was the is 


since calleil Si( 




IS now a sunny pasturat^c 

but at its discovery, in 1609, it 
nohi(!st i)ines he had ever hel 


was all a throve of what Cliainplain declares the 
Thence past the site of the future St. |ohns; 


and past the alterw.inis historic lie au.\ 



then, roundin 

Point, CI 



am leil 

tlotilia of twentv-fo 

ur cano 

es into the l.ike-fount, 

un ol th( 


Altou:ether, a si'dit to sti 

ir ones huxnl on a ljri<jht )ul\- inorninLT : liie 




with its ^ditter 

iiiL^ waters aiK 

1 itH 

s (iiailem ol mountains; tin- wooded islands and shores 

in the full 'dorv of their 

summer lealaLr( 


le teem 

iil'r lifi; of 

ake am 

1 f( 




k llu! nrrow\- \WA\\. of the canoes under the swceiiiiitj- stroke of those swart 




ilreadv houiuleil over tin; water-front of Can; 

)Ut in 


I'ake- of \'ond<'r canoes is followimi ;i perilous surf of horder-wars. 

Into the uiH 



be drawn all who .ipnroach these waters 

not aloiK 

Indians, Im 

t P" 



P^njjjlish, .Americans ; and more than two centuries will pass o\-er hefc 
enjoy a lasting peace. Hut of all this our old (lovernor had no thoiiy^ht. He Iiad 
just made his first ac(|iiaintance with a n^ar-pike ; was remarkins,^ on its "bill" and 
vicious teeth ; was thrusting at its armour with his poniard. As he coursed down 




/'/( " TURJ-:SQ { K CA NA DA. 

the laki- he was much engrossed with the majjnificent scenery on cither hand. To 
th<' west lay llu; Adirondacks. the ancient liomestead of liie Aljj;on<iuin warriors who 
were ills companions. 'I'heir forefathers deserted tliat pictiiresiiiie wilderness for 
tile gentU'r shores of Hocheia^a. drivinij iiefore tliem the tlien iiinvarlike Iro(]Uois, 
wiioin Cartier had found l'isiiin«,r, eorn-piantint;, and road-makiny;. Contrastinor their 
own het'er fare witii liiat of improvick'nt and often famished Al^oncpiins, the 
lro(|uois had nicknamed them .Idirondacks, — " Mark-heaters." Once i,. Canada, the 
.Ailir>)ndacks i)ecame fused into tiu; otiier Algontjiiin tribes that oiiii]>it'd tiie i)anks of 
the Ottawa: hut tlie ancient nickname still happih' adheres to their old mountain 
liome. rhr(uii;li lunerson's muse those ])eaks have won a name in literature, as well 
as on maps : hut on that mornini;, and lony afterwards, they were "Titans without 
muse or name." Then away on his left Champhiin saw the soarim.^ peaks of the 
Ciieen Mountains, which, thrcuii^Ji the I'"rench verts vioiits, \r.\\:: <^i\c'n n.\me to tin; State 
of W'rmont The discoverer remarked, thous^h a Ju'y sun was sliininij^, that their 
summits were wliile with snow. llis Canatlian warriors sitjhted the Irocpiois on(' 
nit^ht at ten o clock, and dawn hrouiL^ht an encounter on the h.eaillaiul v.hich afti-r- 
wards became iiistoric as Crown Point. Champlain and his two I'"reuch soldiers 
shared the fray, ami then, for the tirst time, these solitudes neard the sound of tire- 
arms, l^oailed with lour slu>^s anil lireil into a crowd at lhu-t\- paces, their tir</ii((>ii.-rs 
scattereil the Mohawks like '.^ild pi};c<uis. While the panic lasted Champlain hurried 
down the lake, and back to the .St. L.iwrence. To commemoratt: his disco\cr\- ;'.nd ad- 
venture, the lake was by himself nametl Champlain. lie was by no of the 
mind to ,L;i\'e aims to oi)li\ion: his wife's namt' is preserved in .St. ilelen's Island; 
anil the ri\cr St. brancis once bore his father's name, Antoine, thou^Ii b\' 16S5 the 
old sea-captain hail already lost his nrip on fame, and llu' rixcr hatl passed o\fr to 
the pal," I I saint of the .Abenakis Indians. 

Amon^- Chanip!. nil's contemiioraries was Jean Nicolet, who iii-ver rose to be 
archon, but \et became cpoHvinus of lake, river, town, and county in the tract we are 
descriijiii!^. A :iati\e of Cherbourir, Ik; einiij^rated to Canada when youn^ to In couk 
an interpreter. Utter!) devoid of fear, he lived eleven years amons.; the Indians, 
and took a fidl share of e»ery danger and hardship. Of this life nine years were 
spent among the Nii)issings, that nation of wizards. Henceforward, Nicolet himself 

was a wiziu'il. 

\. lU 

the sorcerx o 

f f; 

ui Ileal mt. 


)\ the enchantment of triithfu 

ords, he gained a most e.xtraordinarv ascendanev ovr the nati 



1 1 


the great peac(!-maker of his time. He composi'd for the reniainde.' of hi.; life the oKI 
1 .AlgoiKiuin and Iroipiois. He iuul given these wild men " meili- 

deadh' feud l>et\ 


to make them lo\( 


it was hi:, limpid honesty of speech and ]jurpose. 


only one e.xtraortiiiiary emergency did he adtl scenic effects ; and, mark you, he was 
then on a foreign embassy. The Hurons had become embroiled with a tribe on the 



. ./^-r... -»».-««?- *5**i#,ai^, 



i^inw^^n II ii iwnpi,i.pi!w«PWP»' 




sorru-i:. istf.rx oi •/•/i/-c 






picTrRi'.sori': c.wAn.i. 

tallcil tlu'iii. l''ull of 
llic ilrcam ol llir lime, 
Jean lliouqiu " Mcr" 
niusl l>c the Cliiiicsi- Sea ; and lo caparison himself for an intiT\iew witli the 
Manilarins. he liou'^ht a rohe of Ciiinesc damasU, eml)i"oiilere(l in colonrs willi a 
wild profusion of i)irds and llowers. I'atliei' X'imonl's description ot this droll ouUit 
was e\ idently wriili'ii after a near \ iew ; and, between the lines, you lan hear the 
worthy failu'r chneklin^ at the hare tluuii^lu of it. Arrived on the failher shore 
of Lakr ^Ii^■hi^an. honest Jean set u|), as an earnest of peace antl L;()od-will, two 
Christnuis-trei's. laden with shifts, Ht: then hainessetl himself into his Chinese tlower- 
i:jard«'ii and a\ ia Hut, donhlini'; how the Mandarins of lireen i>ay mii^ht re- 

c(-i\e him, hi' took in each haiul one of the tremendous pistols of that era, and, send- 
ing forward his Huron companions, advanctnl towards the; yet ims(.'en metroj)olis. 
The ner\('s of the \\'in:!el>aL;ii ladies were lUKMiual to the sti'ain thus cast upon them : 
thev ran from wigwam ti> wi;rwam, screaminL;', "A l)o;j;-ie is comint;, thunderholt in each 
hanil I " I'his startliri^ |)relude o\er, Niioiet ,L(ot t<),L,retliei- the chiels. and soon won 
them over te friendship with t!ie llui"ons. After " plantiuL; the i ree of I'eace," antl 
throwing; earth on the hnried tomahawks, lu- returned to his heme at 1 hree Ki\crs. 
Though Xicolel did not -reai'h ih.e Chinese Sea, he had found the W isconsin Kix'er, 
and all hul fomul tlic .]/lss/ss//>/)/. Indeed, Mr. Ciilmary .Shea awards him the honour 
of tirst disco\cr\ 

S(,'\-en or eiu^ht \ ears aft<'r this, Nicolet, then at Oiiebec, received urt^t-nt word 
from (iovernur Montmai^ny that the Ali,^onquins at Three Rivers had captured 


-V * ;:. 



a Sokoki Indian, and wore about to burn him alivr. A storm was rairin^ on tiu." St. 
Lawrence, l)Ut instantly Xicolct was down to the river, entreatiii<j the owner of a 
siialh)]) to put out. riie\' iiad |)ass<'d tile mouth oi thi- Cliaudii're, and were .ilji'cast 
of .Sill(;ry wlien tile erafl was blown o\-er, and Niculet was swept down the ri\cr. The 
sur\i\'or repoi'ted that the drowning; man's thoui.^lils were not oi himsell, but of his 
wif" .and dauLjiiter. So, onw.ard ! thou sinijile, iu-roic sold, [lasi the Ki\t'r of l)eath 
ami the (ireat (iulf. to the Shoreless Ocean! 

To a moilern tourist who enters Canada for the tirsl lime by the route of Lake 
Champlain, then- is something; very startling;' in the sucldeii clianm' ol names as he passes 
from \ew \'ork or N'ermont to the vaiK'\' oi the i\ichelieu. With his usual artistic 
\i\idncss, Thoreau e.\prc;ss(>s the effect prtjiluced on his mind : — '■ To me (online; from 
New linL,dand it appeared as Xoi'uiandy itself, and realizc-d much iliat had been heard 
of ICurope and the Middle -X.^c's. ICven the n.ames (j| the humble Canadian villages 
allccted nie as it tlie\' liad been ihosi- of the renowiu'd cities ot anti(iuii\. To be tcdil 
bv a hiihilant. when i asketl the name of a \illas4e in sii^hi, that it is Si. /■\i\'oI ur S/c. 

A I 

the 6 

iitardian . lih'cl. or the I [olv St. 


lO^cp/l s 

or of ,1 mouiu.iin that it was 

(///i'(' or .SV. I Iwuinthc ! .As soon as we l(;a\'e the States these s.iintU' names be^'iii 

St. J oh 

ins is tile lirsi town ■^<oy\ stop at, ami henceforth the names of the mountains. 






ami slrcains, and villai^cs reel, if I may so sfx-ak, with the intoxication of poctrx' : 
Cliamljly. L(ini,nicuil, I'nintc-aiix- rrcml)lcs, liarllit'lcmi, etc.. as if it iiccilccl onl)' a 
little foreii^n accent, a few moi-e iicjuids ami vowels percliancc in the lani^uaj^^c Id 
make or locate our ideals at once. ! he^an to ilr<'am of I'rovence and the Troiiha- 

So far tile Hermit ol W'aiden. Hut underKiuj^' what In; calls '■ saintlv names," 
thiTe was in tlie i-iichelii'u i'eninsula a ftn'venl mililar\- feudalism. Throuj.;)! this 
cassock L,deameil a sti'cl cuirass. 'l"houi.;h tiie splendiil illusions of the ( )ld Rcsrimc 
have lorn; since faded, the hauL,dit\' names of that epoch siill kindle with an after- 
jflow. !})■ the mere n.uiies of these villat^es, towns, and sciLjiiiories, you may c<mjure 
back l.ouis ()uatorz<' and X'ersailles ; the statecraft of Colbert; the sokliers of 
Tiuenne and X'auban. Picketed around the ancient rendezvous at the confluence of 
the Kichelieu .uid St. Lawrence are the ol'hcers of the Carij^nan-Salieres, as thoiij^h 
still i^uardinjj the Inxpiois Rivei--(iate and the approaches to Montreal: Captain 
Herihier, LieuliMiant L;ualtrie ; lioucher, V'arennes, X'ercheres, Contrecicur. Twilit^ht 
in these ancient woodlaiuls awakens sleepinir echoes and di;ail centuries ; with the ris- 
Uiir ni^lu-wind the whole |)lace s(;ems 

" Killed as with sli.nlow ol' sound, with the pulse of invisible feet." 

rhrom;Ii the forest aisles rim;' out ell'm trumpet-calls: we hear the ;-(■':.///<' of LjliostK 
drums ix-aiiiiL^; the pranciiiL^ of phantom horses; the clinkinj^ of sai)res ; the measured 
treail of Louis the kOurteenth's battalions. .\t roll-call we hear officers answer to lanii- 

liar lames: -•' Cajjtain Sorel?' 

lere : 

Captain .St, Ours?" " Here I "~ " Capt.iin 

Chambly?" "Here!" .\nd in i^ood truth most of them are still here. In the soft 
tjrass of ("lod's Acre the\' are restiiii^, surrounded by those faithful soldiers who in 
death, as in life have not <leserted them, 'roj,;ether these \etcrans foujriu the I'urk 
in Huni^arx', and drcnc him into the Raab ; to<;ctlu'r they chased the Irixpiois up the 
Richelieu, and down the .Mohawk \'alle\- ; and, after \an and rear hail i)assed a 
darker valley and an icier lloo<l, the\- musiei-cd here at last in eerie bi\ouac together. 
During; the summc'r and autumn of 16(35 the soldiers of tlu- CariLjnan-.Salieres 
may ha\c been s(;en workiiiiLi like beaxcrs alont,^ the banks of the Richelieu, cuttini:,^ 

ilown trees and castii 

1) eartiiworks. 

Hv the f 

ollowiiv'' \-eai' ;i line o 

)f li 


S iKUl 

i)een completed, — Richelieu (.Sorel), .St. Louis (Chamblv), St, 'I'herese, St, [can, .St. 


first, occui)\ni 



and s 


the site of the Chevalier Montmajjny's old fort, com- 
e river; the last commanded the outlet of Lake Champlain, 
on the island still called La .Motle after the Captain who ilirecled the 

anded the mouth of th 

With this brid 

ol forts 


in n 

;ind. Louis Xl\ hoped to rein in the wi 


L-()C|uois. just as the Wall of .Sexerus was meant as a snaffle for the wilil Caledonian 



Settlements of the legionaries ami tiieir captains were formed behind the Roman 
W^all ; so our centurions ami their soldiers occupied seigniories and iiefs under cover 
of these river-forts. 

The officers' sons and daughters inherited the high spirit of their race, and were 
often remarkable for adventurous and heroic qualities. Lieutenant Varennes married 
little Marie Boucher, daughter of a brother ofificer, who was then Governor of Three 
Rivers. One of their sons was that Knsign Varennes de Verendrye, who, fighting 
like a lion under Marshal Villars at Malplaquet, was left for dead on the field, but 
revived nevertheless, and was consoled for his nine wounds with a lieutenancy, and 
returned to Canada ; next we hear of him on Lake Nipigon ; then on the Kaminis- 
tiquia; now he has reached Lake Winnipeg, is building a fort, and is floating the 
first fleiir dc lis on those waters ; is the first to explore the Saskatchewan ; is the 
first to behold the Rocky Mountains. And what school-child in Canada has not read 
or heard of Madeleine Vercheres, who, at fourteen years of age, beat off the Iroquois 
from her father's fort, and for a whole week maintained her vigil on the bastion until 
help came up from Quebec ? 

The first commandant and scis;nair of Chambly seems to have left his heart in 
France, for he made over his whole estate to Mademoiselle Tavenet, — to be hers at 
once if she shared his fortunes in Canada ; in any case, to become hers after his 
death. The charming Tavenet preferretl to wait ; but it is doubtful whether the estate 
ever reached her. A few words more will dispose of the gallant Jacques Chambly : 
appointed by Frontenac to the chief command "as a most efficient, and as the oldest 
officer in the country"; promoted by Louis XIV to the Governorship of Acadie ; 
captured one hot August day at the mouth of the Penobscot, after being shot down 
in defending l'"ort Pentagouet against a St. Domingo jjirate ; held for ransom at 
Boston ; ransomed by I'rontenac at his private charge ; appointed to Martinique, where, 
let us hope, Governor Chambly recovered from his St. Domingo acquaintance the 
amount of I'Vontenac's bill of exchange. A little more than a century later, there was 
serving at Martinique another seigneur of Chambly, who was to become the most 
distinguished of them all, — Charles de .Salaberry. In the West Indies he early exhib- 
ited the courage ami resource which afterwards won for him and his Canadian 
X'oltigeurs such renown at Chateaugay. Yet with might, mercy; and here he had 
Ijcfore his mind not only the family motto, but the example of his old Basque ancestor, 
whose feats on tiie battle-field of Coutras were so tempered with mercy, that Henry 
of Navarre gave him that chivalrous device. Force a supcrbc; mercy a faiblc, — " Might 
for the arrogant; mercy for the fallen!" 

But, besides the Richelieu, there were other water-ways leading over to the St. 
Lawrence, an> one of which miglit serve the Mohavk raider. If the Yamaska 
approached too near the soldiers' homes of the Richelieu Valley, there were still other 





■1 i 

i : 

1 ^i 


1 ■ , 
t 1 


/'/i /TA'/iMX /■: i .hWUhl. 

rivers in rcscrxc ii()lal)ly tiic Si. Iraiuis. To close at a stroke ail liiese tlood-yatcs 
of Ir(i(|U()is iiuasioii, I'roiUeiiac coiucivcd tiie i)ol(l iirojcct of tlirouinij across the 
whole couiitr), from th(' \ aniaska to the Chaiuliere, the warlike Alj^i^oiuiiiin trihe of 
Abenakis, who, wliilc close friends of the l-'nMich, wen;, from liieir \-ery lineai;!', at 
(icadly feud with liie lro(|iiois. I'hoii^ii once lords of neari\ ten thousand s(|uare 
miles, and tiie terror of New I'.tii^land, the Alienakis are now almost extinct. .\ mere 
handful descendants ol the lew that escaped Ro<;crs' Rangers- -still linj^cr near the 
mouth of the St. !'"i-ancis. Within their former domain, the .Alihi' Maurauli, who lias 
devott'd nearl\- a lifetime to these Indians and their ann.ds, can discover hut three 
words of AWenaki in-\'^\\\:~ -Cotificoo/c, "The Stream of the I'ine-I.and "; .]/()ii/'/iriiiiaii(\i;, 
"The Cireat Sheet of Water"; Mci^dii/ic, " TIk; Resort of I'ish." A moNcment of the 
Abenakis into the region west of the L'haudiere l)t\^an in Decemlier, I'ljg. and 
embraced Indians of two contii;iious tribes, --the luchemins and Micmacs, all three 
bein<r described b\ the I'rench as Xa/ioits A/hiia/xiscs. I lencefoi-th the Abenakis 
remained close allies of !•" ranee. (ihastly reprisals were made on New ICn!.;lan(.l for 
the scalpiiiL^-raids of the Ir()(|uois into Canaila, Ilorror succeeded horror. Vhv. 
Massacre ol l.achine was more than a\cni;eil by the atrocities of Schenectady, 1 )eer- 
fiekl, ami 1 la\erhill. 

At IIa\crhill these ax-eiiLiinij^ furies were; led by J. 15. Ilertel ile Romille, who 
rej^arded his father's hand- -mutilated and burnt b) Irocjuois torturers — as his suf- 
ficient cf)mmissi()n. I le was the lirst lord of Hc-lo'il .^^nmtain, antl of that lo\ely 
mountain-lake which brechette calls iiii joyaii loDibc tfiiii cciin /(iii/as/ii/iir, "a sapphire 
dro|)ped Imni fair\' c.iskel." Mis seiL,niiory mcludetl the romantic Roui^cmont \ alley 
which sep.irates RouL;emont Mountain from l')elteil. SwoopiuL;' from his e\ry, Rouville's 
beak and talons were at the heart of New iln^land before the ap[)roach of a war- 
parl\ was dreamt of. Iber\ille. the z'is-a-v/s of St. |ohns on tin: Richelieu, takes its 
name from him who not onl\' became .1 distiuLi^^uisheil luui^ator, and the iound(>r of 
Louisiana, but wiio. in earlier life;, had imhappily lieen foremost in the midniijht attack 
on Schenc^ctadv. bin- neai-l\- a cenlurv this merciless and rexoltinij' bord(M"-war con- 

tinuetl, until in the end the b.ittle-tield was shared 



1 and !• 




armies o 

f .\mhersl anil Montcalm wert; at each other's throat 

le t)ltl war-trai 

)f the Richelieu, which conductiMl Champlain, 


, ou 

rcelles, and De Tracy ai^ainst 

the 1 1 

roquois, now led bi'ench re"inients ui) to Crown I'oint, 

iconcleroija, anil 




or. with a ilitlere 

nt fi 

ortune of war, mi''ht leail I'JT'lish troops down to M 




1. !• 

\en the 

acificalion of 176; brou'dit but brief rest to this border-l; 




le 01 

tbre.ik of the Re\-olutionar\' 


ir came 


ont<romer\s mvasion 

)v the 



and the capture of borts St. Join ami C'lambly. .Simultaneously, Arnold undertook 
his memorabh; winter-march of nearly 600 miles up the Kennebec ami down the 


\(U ■ TII-IIAS TI-.RX oi' 



is I 


PICTURI'.SOL li C. I. v. I/). I. 

' I": 

ordinary size. Academies under Protestant ans|)ices are also in full activity. Indeed, 
this beaiitifid river-nooiv. with its siiadowy pine groves and thi' restful niunnnr of the 
water, seems to have heen hy Nature set apart for study and lonleniplation. Maiins 
and (!ven-S()nL,r here pealed throujrh the rood-loft of i^reat |)ines, a,L(i's before the swelliiij^r 
orjfan of ciuirch or cathedral was heard, lucn now the ("leniiis of the I'orest lingers 
despite the ruinble and outcry of two railways. .Still ascending; the river, we pass 
Mount Yainaska, .uul, after restini; at the village of (iranby, climb to a dark valley 
walled in on the north by Shefford Mountain, and by the; lirome .Mountains on the 
south. In Ikome Lake the fountain-head of the Yamaska is reacheil, — a romantic 
sheet of water, with the village of Knowlton near the south end. 

Here leav(! the basin of Yamaska, and cross over to Mcmphremagog and .\lassa- 
wippi, lake-fountains of the St. I'rancis. A mountain-road clambers through Holton 
Pass, and then races down to the shore of Lake Memphremagog. brom the heights 
we look out upon scenes of many a wild ex|)edition, romantic or tragic. N'omler is 
the lake-gateway through which the iKjrce Abenakis so often carried desolation to tin; 
heart of Massachusetts. It was through those maple woods, on our west flank, that 
Rogers' Rangers, in 1759, swejit like a whirlwinil of llame, to e.\terniinate the whole 
brood of tigers that had so long harrieil the homes of New Lngland. Many the hnv- 
les.s adventure of love and war in the old days of Partizan and Ranger, who ofii 11 
helped out the glamour fif romance by picturescpie tinery or Imlian costume. Now 
you may wander at will amid the wildest of this magnilicent scenery, without other 
adventure than the rough salute of the mountain-air, that "clLirtered libertine": — 

lint lit'ie h( \v often rides the Uanfrei -Wind 1 
'I'u triMiiblinj; iispens lie now lisps iif love. 
Or j;ricving balsam firs to te.irs will move ; 

Tragic his tale the pallid hirchcs lind ; 

lie, envious, sees the wooded peaks reilini-d 

On the sweet bosom ol' the Lake ; nor Irown 
Of darkling Orford heeds, but blusters down 

The echoing pass, a plume of mist to bind 

On scowling brow, carbine with lightning till ; 

He decks him in rain-lringes lagged with hail. 

In ribbons of flying cloud ; then whistles shrill,— 
.Snorting leaps forth the war-horse of the gale ! 

Wild Tcntaur-clouds in wheeling squadrons form. 

And oer the border sweeps the Ranger-Storm! 

Lake Memphremagog is brought within three hours of Montreal by the South- 
Eastern Railway. After si.x minutes of darkness in the great tube of Victoria Bridge, 
we recover speed with sunlight, and strike away for the Richelieu, which is crossed 


SfV • /•///:. /,V ■/•/■AW Of 7:7.7:Y.' 



iL ^ 



williiii \i('\v of Chainliiy Uasin and the oltl 
Fort. rducliiiiL; tin: ^'amaska at W'l'st I'"arii- 
liam, we cliinl) the water- slicd of Hroine. 
1 liciuc, (Icscciul tile \allc\- ol the Missis(|iioi 
l\i\ci-. wiiuliiiir throiitjli its loxuly j^Icns and 
past tilt; southciii I'iiinack' Mountain, and llauk 
and Hear Mountains, to Newport at the \'er- 







< ^■> 







IL25 ■ 1.4 









4> V^ ^> 





WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 

(716) 872-4503 









^1^ 4^ 



S' ,. % 





mont end of Lake Memphremagoij^. A third of the way down this most romantic 
water the boat-whistle apprises us tliat we are crossin_<j; the 45th parallel, our Interna- 
tional Boundary. Then, for twent\- miles northward, a perspective of noblest scenery. 
The west shore is embossed with lofty cones — Canadian kindred of the Green Moun- 
tains — tlie hi_<rhest of the coves being Mount Orford, 4,500 feet. Owl's Mead springs 
from the water's edge 2,700 feet into the air. Between this venerable owl-haunt and 
the sculptured profile of Hlephantis you sail ove; a still unsounded abyss which baffled 
Sir Hugh Allan and his sea-line of 1,200 feet. Yonder, on the opposite headland, is 
that old sea-king's Chateau; for, in the swelter of summer, it was his custom to 1 >t 
here from the care of his fleets, and brace his nerves witii "the wine of mountain air. 
When we reach the lake-outlet at Magog we seem to be in the immediate presence of 
Orford, though the mountain stamls back a ^q.\s miles from the shore. From the 
summit, in clear weatlier, a most magnificent view is iiad : Moimt Roj-al, and all the 
mountain-peaks from the Richelieu to the Chaudiere ; Lake Memphremagog, its beau- 
tiful sister, Massawippi, antl a score of other lakes ; the Arcadian landscape of the 
Eastern Townships ; and, bt^yond their southern frontier, the Green Mountains of 
Vermont, and the White Mountains of New Hampshire. 

Not the least delicious bits of scenery in the luistern Townships lie in the valley 
of the .St. Francis. Among the farmsteads and rich herds of Compton and Stanstead 
winds the deep chasm of the Ccaticook. Of Compton you would say, — "just the 
nook that a contemplative naturalist might choose for writing a Sluphcrd's Calendar !" 
So thought Philip Henry Gosse before you, and settled here amid the "martial alarms 
and stormy politics" of 1837-8. It will soon be a half-century since he haunted 
these glens and woodlands. In an ('xcursion to Siu'rbrooke we need no longer hope 
to find a moose, nor fear to meet a gigantic gray wolf ; mill-wheels and factories on 
the Coaticook and Magog have frightened away many of the tish of pioneer days ; but 
in bird, insect, and wild-llower, and in the Spring ferns. Hushing with sweet verdure, 
may be seen the descendants of those wiiich sat to tlu; gentle naturalist for their 
portraits, ami, "amid the fatigues of labour, solaced him with simph; but enchanting 

Rising in Lake .St. Francis, and (;.xpanding into Lake Aylmer, the St. Francis is 
joined at Lennoxville by the Massawip|)i, which brings the tribute of the Coaticook 
and other streams, as well as th(' overflow of Lak(! ?vTassawippi. Overlooking this 
meeting of waters at Lennoxville, and surrounded by a landscape of rare loveliness, 
is the University of Bishop's College, with its pretty Chapel and Collegiate School. 
The friends of Bishop's College, undisheartened 1)> repeated fires, have not only 
restored the buildings, but extended them, and provided anew a good working library. 
Among literary donations is a sumptuous facsimile of liie Codex Sinaiticus, from the 
Emperor of Russia. Above and below Lennoxville, the St. Lrancis lingers among 



some sweet scenery ; the 

stillness of the river here 

is in strikintjf contrast to 

th(> riulc concourse at 

Sherbrooke, wlierc the Mat^og clashes wildly 

down a steep incline, brinijing the overflow 

of Lakes lMa£^o<,r and Memphremajrog. 

I lie hill-slopes of SlierI)rookr are con- 
spicuous several miles off. and glitter in 
the sun witii their Cathedral, College, and 
Church-spi.-'^'s. To the early Jesuits the 
site was familiar, lor the .St. I""rancis was 
the old water-wa\- from Xew Kngland to 
Three Rivers and Ouebec. The local an- 
nals have \w.vw collected by Mrs. C. M. 
Day and by the Rev. P. Ciirard. Suj)erior 
of the Sail ilia ire St. Cliailcs-l-ionoiuci'. 

Just above its coiilluence with the St. 
Francis, the ri\er Magog descends a hun- 
dred and fourteen feet in iitlJe more than 
half a mile. The ine\itable saw-mill, and 
grist-mill, and carding-mill ajipeared at the 
beginning of the present century- ; and 
around this nucleus a hanlet gathertid, which, in 181 7, was visited and paternally 
adopted by the Governor, Sir John Sherbrooke. A distinct imp ilse was given to its 
growth when Sherbrooke became headquarters for the British-American Land Com- 
pany, which, chartered in 1.S33, was a prime instrument in opening out the beautiful 
wilderness of the Eastern Town.ships. In its boundless water-power, and in the fertility 



1 ■ j I 



of tl;c district, Sherbrooice has emliiriiif:^ resources. Its manufactures arc already v'ery 
extensive, some of the factories reaching the size of villages. The educational insti- 
tutions are well-eciuipijed and efificient. Commercial Street is the chief thoroughfare. 
At the farther entl, the strec.'t fades into a perspective of pretty villas. Melbourne 
Street makes a delightful promenade, with its fine residences and flower-gardens, and 
its charming ri\('r-\ie\vs. 

Throughout the Kastern Townsh-ips, l)ut most of all in Missisquoi, Stanstead, and 
Compton, there is a robust strain of the early Massachusetts pioneer. At the epoch 
of the Great Divide, not a few Loyalists followed the old flag, and settled a little 
beyond the " Province Line." Picking up the disused axe with a sigh — often with a 
secret tear — they once more hewed out for themselves homes in the forest. They 
brought across the frontier, with their old Hebrew names, the pith and industry, and 
inte.ise earnestness of the Puritan. They transplanted to Canadian soil that old farm- 
life of New England, which, by its (piaint ways, has stirred so many delightful fancies 
in .American novelists and poets. Such fire-light pictures and winter-idylls as Hawthorne 
and W'hittier love to paint, were here to be teen of a winter evening in every snow- 
bound farmstead. Among the dusty heirlooms of these Township homesteads may 
still be found andirons that stood on early New England hearths. Burned out 
and fallen to ashes are the last forestick and back-log ; and so are that brave old 
couple who, in their gray hairs, wandered into the Canadian wilderness, and, with 
trembling hands, hung the old crane over a new hearth. 


^afji'^^^Hidn^^^^^iS^f^KMib. . 





' !l 








HOMK or THK I'llCllIK I'l.ANT. 

1 1 1'l St. Lawrence is tlie 
t\|)(', as it is tlic cmbocii- 
nient. of Canadian ri\crs. l'"ull, 
free, and impetiiocs from sonrce 
to outlet; clear and svift like its countless tributaries; hroad ami mis^ht)' in xoiume, 
like the lakes that store its strenj^th ; ever chanij;^ino; in aspect, from mighty rapid 
and stu|)endous fall, to ripplinp; reaches and broad depths, where it gathers force for 
another rush down its steep incline. Not a mere water-course^ hut a stream of the 
iiills and woods, full of sparkle and vigour, as if draining- half a continent were a 
labour to be rejoiced in. Throui^hout the varying; scenes of its lont; course, its beauty 
and majesty are always striking, but nowhere more so than in its estuary. Other 
(88) 6g7 



great rivers sclmii to tlread their end ; they wander sliijrgisldy through vast marshes, 
subdivide into many outlets, build up great bars to ward off \.\\v. sea, siiildenly give 
uj) the contest, spn-ad out their waters, and are lost in the ocean. I'he "Cireat River 
of Canada" keeps its individualit) to ilu; cKjse, anil rolls on till the banks which con- 
fine its grand tlood an.' those which limit tiie oc(!an itself. At tlu; Isle of Orleans, 
it seems to prepare bokliy for its end, for it suddenly widens, to be measured by 
leagues instead of l)\- mili's across ; yet there are full)- two hundred miles to go before 
its shores fade away on opposite horizons, and close on three hundred more before it 
reaches the open sea. 

The hills, among which it was l)orn, its kinsfolk and actpiaintance that share its 
name, come to guard it again after two thousand miles of separation. broni Cap 
Tourmente to far down the Labrador coast the Laurentians are piled up in a sea of 
rolling contours, like huge waves turned to rock just when their crests were breaking. 
On the south tlu- mountains keep longer aloof, but broken foot-hills diversify the 
undulating slope that sweeps up, from the belt of rich lowland along the shore, to 
when! the distant hills of .Maine meet the sky. Near Kamouraska, precipitous crags 
dot tin: broail plain. .At Bic, immense spurs jut out to the river-bank. Thence, towards 
the sea, the face of tile countr)- is ever more and more broke-n ami scarred ; the Gaspe 
range presses inwartls, and, with the tall peaks of the Shickshaws towering above all, 
lonely giants jealous of their blue-cappetl rivals on the far hori/.iju, bounils the St. 
Lawrence from Cap Chat to Ciaspe, with great cliffs, stern, overhanging, sombre, meet 
banks for a river eighty miles broad. There are all the charms of river and sea, of 
mountain and forest, of wilderness and cultivcited plain, about the region. 

Turn to the north. A rampart of rock, guarding the secrets of the wild land 
beyond, towt'rs to the sky ; great cheisms and gorges break it, but to reveal still 
mightier walls of mountain, at last, till the eye is fain to rest upon tl(;ecy shimmerings 
of cloud lloating al)ove hills that seem far off as the sky itself. Rock and forest 
ever\ where ; dark and sombre when the storm clouds gather, and the rain-squalls howl 
down the passes, blotting out of sight all but the white-ca]jped waves ; many-hued and 
soft-shadowed as the morning light plays on pin(> and spruct; top, on waving birch and 
c]uivering poplar, on ilark cedar and brilliant maple ; clear-cut and bright in the strong 
light of a Canadian mid-day ; rich in purple and green, crimson and gold, russet and 
grey, orange and black, as the sun goes down ; vague, soft and silvery in the moon- 
light ; mysterious and overwhelming when the moon has sunk behind the hills. A land 
of torrents and earthquakes, where the foundations of the continent were upheaved, 
and scarcely now have settled firm. Yet, wherever the mouth of a river wedges the 
hills apart, or the wearing current and chafing ice-floes have left a foothold at the 
base of the heights or have cut an escarpment in their sides, little hamlets cluster and 
the symbol of the Christian faith is seen. 



On the south shore Nature is less aggressive, and xiflds room for liu: JK-autics of 
pastoral landscajje. I'Or liic most part then; is a coiitiiuious line of settlenicnt, farms 
ami houses, villages and church-spires, hen; and there a goodly town, streams antl 
bridges, convents and windmills, trees and meadows. Hut everywiiere a background of 
the iiills and tile woods. 

Hundreds of streams, some of them great rivers, coming from far rcLjions, known 
only to the wild-fowl and the Indian, swell the volume of the Lower St. Lawrence. 
Those on the south coast wind turbid Hoods through sinuous curves in tiie rich loam ; 
those on the north ilash round sharp angles, hurrying their crystal waters over cascades 
and rapids, down gravelly beds and through deep rock-bound pools, where the; salmon 
and the sea-trout rest on their loitering away to the distant shallows, U|) sonK; of these 
streams even the fish cannot climb far, and the vovui^cnr in his bark-canoe- must make 
many a portage over the crags and through the trees, if he would scale these watery 
ladders to the labyrinth of lakes, whence he ma\- thread his way far west beyond 
Lake Superior, north to Hudson's Hay, or east to unexplored wilds. 

Islaiuls of all sizes and forms, — some grc^en aiul fertile like the Isle of Orleam. 
beautiful Isle au.x Coudres, and pastoral Isle Verte, — some long, rocky battures with 
jagged reefs, round which current and tide contend in ugly swirls of foam, — others, tall 
pillars of rock, fragments from the j)rima;val strife of elements, break the brcnid blue 
expanse, and interpose an ever-changing foreground. Hold headlands alternate with 
long, low-lying points, to mark the extremitic;s of the sweeping bays, within which are 
sea-weed covered rocks, white sand i)each(;:„ and broad tiats, the homes of innumerable 
birds. Colonies of ravens inhabit iIk; wooded heights that space off the little ports 
where the rivers widen as they meet the tide, and where tht; brown-sailed fishing-boats 
find shelter. Long piers run far out to the ciiannel ; light-houses, banded with i)lack 
and white, dot the capes, and mark the slioals in the track of the great ocean steam- 
ers that here seem but small black nuclei of smok\' comets. Huge red l)uo)s deline 
the channels; their bells clang out the danger signal, and fog-horns bellow d<H'p warn- 
ing notes as thi: increasing swell tells of the coming gale, (jreat shi|)s, eeiger to make 
an offiniT, and to leave trrim Anticosti's wreck-strewn coast safe behind, spreatl clouils 
of canvas; others, with sails aback, lie quietly awaiting the swift pilot-boats that beat 
about like restless sea-swallows gathering a living from the waves. The semaphores 
on the hillocks swing their great arms to signal passing vessels, anil telegraph their 
news from station to station, so that the distant Hird Rocks and the lonely Magdalens 
share the world's tidings with the cities of the west. 

The cool, pure air of the mountains, sweet with the aroma of the forests, mingles 
with salt breezes from the sea. The dash of the waves, as the brisk sipiall curls 
their crests, is the complement of the crisp rustle of the leaves ; the long, moaning 
swash of the tide that of the sough of the wind through the pine groves. There is 


1 1 








a iniiiirliid rcslfulncss and xin'our in ihi,' atinosplicrc, a coinljination of tlu; sea aiul tlie 
woods, of the rivrrs and tin; hills, to drive away all care ami weariness. 

Xor is tile interest of iIk' Lowei- St. Lawrence' that of scent.'r)- alone ; tradition, 
history, lencnd rjul folk-lore contrilnite their full share. l-on^- hefore Carti(.T first 
\isited the three threat rcialnis of 1 lonL,ai<-do, .Sai^iienay. and Canada. Indian nations 
fought many a war of extermination for the possession of tlu,' huntin_.^-!:;rounds and 
lislunies. .Mi^oiKjuin and .Souricitiois, Micmac. MaU'cite, Ahenatiiii, Montagnais and 
ha\i; all left thi'ir mark. I'ranci; and KuLjiand havi- lent associations to 

Irocjuois, have' all lelt thi'ir mark. I'r 
:;very point on th<: lon^;' coast-line. IIi 

)W man\' traiicdies, 

what thrillini'' sct'nes, 

and \;irious 

this river has seen since; cannon lirst woke th< 

^aiirentiaii s 

thunderous echoes with a roval sahiti; to "i)onnacona A/ouhanna on .Seiyneur de 
Canada" lioariling Cartier's ships off the island of Orleans, close to the \-ery point 


not lohi^r aL;<), the people of Staclac 

ona \\a\(.'(l 

tl I' 

l'.\(;r\' IS 


cape and 



U'lr Cod 


to an 

IS a stor\' ot shipwreck, miracle, or 


th. T 




le people 


of the ri\er and ''ulf are a curious compound of 




lev are lull ol enerLTN' am 



d character, hold and h.irdw si 
1 ah 


hosjiitalih', superstitious, as all fishermen ari', and ahoundintr in woiuk^r 


legends, hut pious and lira\'e withal. Th(;y prese.Tve 

man\- o 


Ideas ;uid 

h.ihits, for 

own here; tlu; earliest settlements in French CaiKula are sid 

e in- 

side with the latest. 


is not surprisin 

' that the Lr 

.St. Lawreii 

ce, or 

rather those parts of 


Tiih: LowiiR SI. L.iwKiiXcii, AS'P I'nii s.n.ri-.iX.w. 


it that j^'cncially pass for the whole;, of whicli ihcy form in reality hut a small 
portion, has lon;^' lucn a fa\i)urii<' holiilay jjjroiiml for Canadians of ihi' I'pper 
l'ro\in(fs, and it has of latr \c.irs iic^iin lo attract niaiu' stran;4<'rs. 'i'ix'ic are 
wati-rin-^-placfs on lioiii shon-s, each ha\iii^ its own ciiaractcristic. 

Kaniouraska, the oldest ol all, wluirc- once ii|)on a time the wittiest and most 
charmjnj;' of ireiuh soiiet\' was to he found, is now dull, (|uiil, an<l ei\eii to hoaling. 
Ri\iere du Loup, now, alas, turni'd into prosaic hut siyniticant l'raser\ ille, for the 
new name perpetuates the poetic rescni^c that spoiled of their \cry nalioii.ility the 
whilom spoilers of this fair land,- has comforiahle hou;-,es and L;ood society, is <lecidedly 
proper, respectahh;, and ;i liiih; slow. Cacouna has its (piiei collages, hut alscj the 
most pretentious hotel, .and too much of the ilancint; and drc^ssinj,' that characterize 
American walerinLj-places. Holh Rixiirc! du l.oup and Cacouna ha\<' he.iuiifid \ievvs 
of the |)anor,ima of the opposite shore, here just at the rij^ht disiaiuc for the most 
mai^nilicent of sunset effects. RinKuiski is a cathedral town, most aifectinl hy 
French \isitors. I>ic is picturesipie and secliuleil, and hut little \isited. Metis is the 
resort of tlu; scientist, the hlue-stockinjj, ami the n(;w l\-married. Malane, noted for 
its i^ood che<.r and se.i-lrout lishinj;. All the foregoing are on the soulh shore, and 
easily reached hy rail or 1)\- steamer; hut attracti\e as the\- are, ihey ha\e not the same 



l>li ri'RHSQUli C ANAP^I. 



charm for most ppoplo as the plarcs across tlic rivc-r, though, as the tcm|)eraturc: of 
thi- water is n()tal)ly warmer, owinj; to its sliallowiiess aiul thi; yreat extent of heach 
uncovered at low li'le. they are preferred for liathinj^f. Tl'.is, however, is the weak 
point of all the frecpienteil waterinj^-pl s on th(' St. Lawrence. To one accustomed 
to the open sea tlie water is not sail iinouj^h, there is no surf, nor are there the 
thousand and one tri'asures of tht; sea-shore, 

I'our times a week in the summer months steamers freiifhted with holiila\-inakers 
antl tourists leave (Juehec iuY I'ailoussac and Chiioulimi, touching at the various 
places between these points. I'o look at the piles of hajj^ajfe and furniture, the 
hosts of chiklren and servants, thi; household },n)ds. tiie dogs, cats and liirds, one 
might think the Canadians were emigrating cii masse, like tlie sci>;iu'iirs and their fami- 
lies after tiu.' cession of the country to England. Mut these travellers have a happier 
destiny tiian iiad those who saileil in the .l/tj^iisft; shipwreckeil on Cape Hrcton in 
November. \-(t2. Murray Hay and its adjoining villages an; the resort of those who 
want grand scenery, and a cpiiet country life with a spice of gaiety. Many families 
have their own pri'tty country-houses, but a favourite ])lan is to take a /itiditaiU's cot- 
tage just as it slantls, and to play at " roughing it " with all the luxuries you care to 
adil to the rag-matt(ul floors ami primitive furniture. Thosi; who want more e.xcite- 
mcnt tind it at the hotels, where in the evening there is always a dance, a concert, or 
private tlujatricals, to wiml up a tlay spent in batiiing, picnicing, boating, driving, 
trout-fishing, tennis, howls, billiards, and a dozen oilier amusements. It is a merry 
life and a healthy one; you live as you |)lease, and ilo as you please, and nobody says 
you nay. Tadoussac is much the same, onl\-, if one ma\' be allowcil the e.xpression, a 
little more so, perhaps because it is the favourite of .Americans. On the north shore 
nobody but the salmon-tish(;r goes beyond Tadoussac ; but on the south shore the 
tendency is always farther antl farthe-r down every year, so that Kimouski, Bic, Metis, 
and Matan(? have successively been reached, and before long, when tlie beauties of the 
coast between Ste. Anne des Monts and Cape Gaspe are fully known, the artist and 
his ally, the fisherman, will no longer revel in solitary and undisturbed enjoyment of 
its magnilicent scenerj'. 

However, our way lies not among, though |)erf()rce to some extent with, the tour- 
ists. PirruKKsc^iTE Canada is not a guide-lxiok ; its random sketches attempt to show 
but a few scattered gems from among the treasures read)' to artist's brush and 
writer's |)en. 

Foremost among these is the coast on the north between the island of Orleans 
and the moutii of th(; Saguenay. It is almost as wild to-day as when the first explor- 
ers saw it three centuries and a half ago, or as when Houcher, writing, in 1663, his 
Histoire Nattircllc du Canada for the information of Colbert, Minister of Finance 
to Louis XIV. said of it: — "From Tadoussac to Cap Tourmente, seven leagues from 




(Jiicl)cr, the coiintr) i; (Hiitc iiiiiiili;iliital)lt:, ImmiI),' too lii^Hi and .ill rotkv. and (|iiitc 
precipitous. I have remarked only oik! place, that is Maie St. I', ml. alxnit hall-wav and 
opposite to Isle aiix (.Dudres, wiiicli seems \cr\ pn ttv as oni' passes li\, as well as all 
the islands to l)e IouikI between ladoussac and (hiehec, whiili ai<- all til to lie 

Times liavi' changed since Houclier's day, hut the north coail has chani.;cd little. 
The scatttM'ed villa^'es s(!rve hut to emphasize the sa\a,!.(e ^.jrandeur ol tin- siiin 
line of cliffs risin;r sheer from llu' water, I'he settlements ha\(' as yc^t made 
little impression upon the countrj- hetween Haie .St. Paul and Cap roin-mente. 'I'lure 
was not even a road over the hills hetween these jioints until iSi.S, and to this day 
there is none alony^ the cliffs, (;,\cept for a few mih.'s ahout I'etile Ki\iere and Cap 
Maillard. Twenty years after Moucher wrote the passaj^c aho\c (pioled, he tells us 
that Petite Riviere and Maie St. Paul hati heen founiled ; the latter, he says, was " the 
first inhabited land to ht; met with on the north shore as you come from Irance ; it 
penetrates a lea<,nie into the land, and is fiftt'en leaijiH's ilistant from (Jutdjec, se\en 
from Cap Toiirmentt;. The roads are \('r\- dit'ticult and dani^crous ; there are three 
families and thirty-one souls; ,Mass is said ilu're in a domestic chapel." 

What those roails w(;re like, and what the missionarx' priests who came from l.a 
Bonne .St(-. Amu- and P<tit Ca]) had to risk to sa)' Mass to the little coiiijjre^tjation, 
may he jiidi^ed from the fate of M. Prancois Pilion, who, in 167c), was caught l>\' the 
tick; and drowneil, ,is he m.ide his wa\- aloiiLj the shore, now wadini^ throii<;h mud and 
water, now climbing' the points of rock. Tradition has it that his body was fouiul at 
I'etite Riviere by Sistt.'r St. Paul, of the Contjjrei^ation of Notre-Dame, who towed it 
behind her canoe up to Ste. .\nne. 'Tlu; .\bbe 'Trudelle, in his interestinLj monoi^raijh 
on Haie St. Paid, speakiiij^ of the invasion of thi: parish of Little Ri\er by the St. 
Lawrence, which (-xcry year carries away se\'eral feet of the fertile lands on which 
formeil)' li\etl a lar!L;;e number of rich habitants, says that it is h.ird to belie\e there 
was a time whcMi a |)arish e.\isted on a hnii^, rock\' shoal, now visible onl\' at low 
tide, anil that in 185S there were still to be seen on it the remains of the old clergy- 
house which, with the old church, the ri\(?r had carried away, 

Boucher exactly describes Bale St. Paul when he s|)eaks of it as "enfoncee dans 
les terres," It is just a jjjreat cleft in the rocks, throut^h which a torrent fed by cas- 
cades from the surroundinjj^ mountains pours an impetuous stream. A lovely valley is 
that of the Gouffrc. In the back,t,rroiind ransje upon rantje of |)eaks rise above each 
other, arid and precipitous in reality, but toned by distance into the softest blue. The 
bold contours of the nearer hills are outlined by deep ravines, dark with forest, brist- 
ling with cliffs. Down every cleft falls a sparklintj; brook, now hidden from sitrht by a 
clump of foliage, anon glistening in the sun, as rounding another turn it leaps from its 
bed, in haste to descend the heights. Soft is the murmur of the many waterfalls, and 



/'/c7rA'/-:so(7-: c.tA\i/ii. 


sweet the smell of tlu- iicw-niow ii ha\- in tlie lirecii liclds tliat strctcli for miles alony 
the wimliin; stream. Cln lers oi houses, troves of trees, ami ^hiiiini:^ church-spires 
diversify llu' scene. it is not al\va\s so peac liil. W'iien meltiiii;' ice ami hea\ y rains 
swi'li iliese mountain streams, chatuiq at the lonj; resiranU iIk- nuuiniains ha\e imposed 
upon the waters, they fret und tear at the Hanks of the hills, and uncover the 
secrets ol the pre-historic worlil. Rocks, irtu^s, and hrids^cs iwc swept into the turl)itl 
rtootl ol the Cioulfre, which, rai^inL; like a demon imchained, destroys e\cryihino that 
impedes its headloni^- course. 

'I"he hay is llanked on the east l)\ the lofty Caj) aux L'orlieaux, named from 

the hoarse croakino- of tlu; r.ixeiis that inhabit its wood-crowned (rest and inaccessible 

slu:lves. iheir cries, carried far out on the river b\' the comiiiL;' sipiall, haxc always 

been of ill-omen to the sailors. 'Ihe old Imbitauts are more than half inclined to 

think this t^loomy cape, constantly ('nshrouded by clouds, tlu" abode of 

iK'mons. I'here is a .Montai;nais Ici^eml of a diant, Oulikou by name, 

who was dri\i'n by the power of the Cross from Islets Mechins, or 

Isles .Mediants, som<; distance farther down the opiiosile sith' of the St. 

Laurence, to the far solitudes of Lake Mislassini, where live the Nashka- 

])ioiUs, " the savages who ilo not pray at all," whence, say the Indians, 

he in his wrath thunders and shakes the whole north shore. This 

legend, and the assertion that 
there is an active \-olcano some- 
where on the water-shed be- 
tween IluiKon's l>a\' and the 
St. Lawrence, correspond curi- 
ously with the habilaiil's su- 
perstition, and with the frequent 
occurrence of earth(]uakes, of 
which Maie St. Paul seems to 
be the centre. 

Lather Jeronu; Lalcmant's 

account of the <^\-v\\X I'arth- 

quake of 1663, in the Kclation 

dcs Jcsiiilcs for that year, and 

the story of the sanu! by Sister 

Marie ile I'lnc-arnation, ar(; un- 

fertunaleK' too loni;' to be ^ixen 

here. But the\ are well known and of undoubted authenticity, ai^n-eeim,'- as they do 

with so many ami diverse contemporary accounts. For six months and a h.ilf the 

shocks were felt throuy;hout Canada and New lingland. Along the St. Lawrence, 


'/•///•; /.oir/ih' S7\ /, .ixn rf//-: s.ii.iriiN.iy 


nuMcoi's lilliul tlic air, wliiili was dark with snidUc and c-ndcis. Tlu' t^''-'^^^ witlicred, 
and llu" crops would iiol JL^row. According to I'Crland, ' Nt-w laki's were formed, hills 


-^ .Sl--,CW 

HAH' SI'. I'All.. 

wt'rc lowered, falls wcro levelled, small streams disap|ieai"ed, great forests were over- 
turned. I'rom Cap TournuMUe to Tailoussac tin; anpear.mce of the shore was greatly 
altered in several localities. Near Haie St. Paul, an isolated hill, about a quarter of 
a league in circumferenci', descendeil helow the waters, and emerged to form an 
island ; towards Pointi' aux Alouettes, a great wood was detached from ihe solid 
ground, and slipptnl o\i'r the rocks into the ri\-er, wheri! for some time the trees 
remained upright, raising tlu'ir \t;rdant crtjsts above; tlu; water." In June the passen- 
gers i)n a sloop coming from Claspc, wlun they approached Tadoussac, saw the water 
strangely agitateil, aiul on land a mountain le\'elled with the surrounding soil. 

In 1638, 165S, 1063, 1727, 1755, 1791. 1S60, and 1S70 there have been many 
shocks. In 1791, it is said tlu; [jcaks north of i?ale St, Paul wen; in active eruption, 
iiut the authority for this statement is not of the best. Onv. thing, however, is certain: 
you will not si)enil a summer in that neighbourhood without being convinced that there 
have been tremendous convulsions, and that there are still shocks to be felt. In i860, 
a stone house near Les Eboulements was thrown down ; the church at Bale St. Paul 
was so damaged that it had to lie rebuilt ; the shock was severely felt on the 
other side of the river ; the church of St. Pascal was badly injured, and at Rivii;re 
Ouelle, the church lost its cross, while every chimney in the parish fell, 

'.i!' r 




On the arrival of the Kni^Hsh lleet with Wolfe's army, in 1759, the inhabitants of 
Bale St. Paul and Isle aiix Condres foiintl safe hidinjj^-places for themselves and their 
cattle in the fastnesses at thi; upper end of the valley. When Captain Gorham made 
the raid which destroyed the parishes of the north shore as far down as Murray Bay, 
the men of Bale St. Paul did not see their village burned without showing fight, 
but the odds were against them. Some vestiges of the earthworks they had throv^n up 
on the shore may yet be traced, and traditions of the conquest are still current. The 
registry of burial of one of the Canadians killed by Gorham's men states that he was 
scalped. The Abbe Trudelle gives as the origin of the saying common here, "fort 
coinme Grenou" a storj- of the capture of two Canadians, one of whom was killed by 
liie cruel process of lashing him to a plank, and dropping him from the yard-arm into 
the water ; the other, Grenon, being of such prodigious strength that he could not be 
fastened to tiie plank, was kept prisoner on board Gorham's ship. A sailor having 
insulted him by blowing in his face, Grenon begged to be untied and given his 
revenge. Gorham, to amuse himself, granted this, and Grenon killed the sailor with 
one blow of the flat of his hand, for which exploit Gorham gave him his liberty. 

Bale St. Paul has had a hermit, I'ather Gagnon, who had been curi of the parish, 
but not being able to submit to his bishop, withdrew in 1788 to live for sixty years a 
life of solitude. He seems to have been a man of strong will, high character, and 
benevolent nature. As all hermits should be, he was an herbalist, and \von a great 
reputation from the cures wrought by his simple remedies. He also possessed another 
characteristic of the true hermit, — he lived to the age of ninety-five. There is, too, at 
Bale St. Paul a portion of the finger of Saint Anne, a relic which makes the church 
a place of special devotion. 

From Bale St. Paul to Murray Bay is a road never to be forgotten. An Irish 
jaunting-car and an Irisli carman are the only rivals of a caliche and its habitant driver 
for velocity and fun. Such hills ! They stand foreshortened before you, looking like 
ladders to heaven, and (piite as hard to mount. But then you descend them at a 
gallop. The caliche was apparently built by the antediluvians, so is quite in keeping with 
the scenery, and, like all the work of the good old times, is thoroughly fit for its 
purpose. The only difficulty is to keep inside it. The energetic pony, good little 
beast that he is, plots upwards with a will that puts to shame the memory of the 
misguided youth of banner-bearing fame. He plants his feet with vigorous thuds, and 
holds on to the stones with a grip that sets one looking to see whether he be not in 
reality a survival of Huxley's horses with toes. Regardless alike of endearments and 
objurgations, he takes the down-hill part much after th(; style of the sailor at Majuba 
Hill, who only made land three times in the descent. If, beguiled by the driver's voluble 
tongue, you allow your attention to slack, and feet and hands to lose the necessary 
tension, you risk (lying over the pony's ears like a bullet from a catapult. 





Drive over this road at least once in your life. Rut, by all means, if you 
are strong enough, — and especially if by good fortune; you have such a com- 
panion as the kindly /\bbi', who spends his leisure at the old manor that lies behind 
the historic point of Riviere Ouellc, far awa)' there on the south shore, in learned 
studies and charming sketches of his native land, or as his kinsman, the Senator, the 
hospitable Seij;;neiir of Les Kboulements, — make your way along the heights on foot, 
drink in the vigour of this bracing air, and rejoice to the full in the wondrous beauty 
of the scene before you. 

Immediately below you is a ver\- chaos of hills heaped up in wild confusion. 
Earthquake, volcano, and Hood have left their work unfinished, arrested, as it were, in 
a moment. At Les Eboulements the effect as you look up from the beach is savage, 
forbidding, gloomy even. This i/Sr/s of mountains suggests the time when men shall 
call upon the rocks to hide them and the mountains to cover tluMii, antl its savagery 
is intensified by arid, crumbling soil and scanty vegetation. It is with a sense 
of intense relief at having escaped the per[)etual menace of tlu; impending hills 
you reach the lofty plateau beyond the church, wher.ce your eye wanders over a world 
of peaks, stretching back from the shore range after range, and sweeping along the 
river to where Cap Tourmente, full forty miles away, shuts in the horizon, tlu-ir spurs 
silhouetted one against the other in boldest outline. Far down below you are villages, 
mere specks of white in the rich valleys, whose emerakl tints are rellected from the 
glassy bays that lie between liie buttresses of th(! mountains. The steamer at the 
end of the long pier is only a streak of cloud in the middle distance. The; whole 
surface of Isle aux Coudre.5, that " moult bonne tcrrc ct vrassc, p/c/nc lic luaiilx cl 
p-andz arbrcs" \r, spread out to your view, a lovely panorama. Over its clumps of 
spruce and cedar, its groves of maple and birch and hazel, you see the south shore 
like a soft blue cloud studchnl with stars, as the sunbeams glisten from the >pires of 
its many parishes. To look down on the calm surface of the river is like a \ ista 
through endless space, so clearly mirrored are the deep ])iles of clouds which, the set- 
ting sun 1 jins to edge with rose and jiurpli;, and to line with gold. Yonder, 
between placid Isle au.x Coudres and frowning Cap aux Corbeaux, where the water 
deepens, and the Gouffre battling with the tide forms the whirlpool whence it takes 
its name, the floating reflections of the sky interlace in a maze cf slow-revolving 
spirals. It is a dangerous spot still for benit or ccuioe. In Charlevoix's time it was 
a veritable maelst-om, and many are the legends of iis terrors. 

There is a special peace in the scene, reminding one of that September morning, 
in '535> when, in the words of the Chanson, that livens many an evening in the 
habitant's cottage, 

"De Saint Malo. /<,-,/« fiort i/i- Ati-r 
'I'rois f;ni>ii/s lUiThm soul aiihfs" 


i 4 



I :* 



and the Grande Hcniiinc, tlic Petite llcniiiiic, ami the linicrillou swiin^r to their 
anchors in the Ijay Ijchind the httle promontories that jut out near liie western end of 
the island. One can ahiiost imagine tliat the sweet and solemn strains of the Mass which 
Dom Antoine and l)om ("millanme le Mreton offered for ihe lirsl lime on Canadian soil 
and the fervent responses of Jaccjues Cartier and his men are borne across the water. 
But it is evening, and the soft sounds we hear are the chimes of the Angelus from 
the cluirchcs in the valleys. 

The inlluence of the scene must be more than a passing imagination, for to this 
day the people of Isle au\ Coutlres are noted for their pi'eser\ation of the simplicit)' 
and integrity of life that distinguished the habitants of former generations, and for 
their devoutness. The Abbe Casgrain is authority for the statement that out of a 
population of about 750, there are 500 commu'iicaiUs. 

'1 lie Isle aux Coutlres, so named from the h;izel trees Cartier fouml ihere, is one of 
the oldest French settlements, and in its(;lf woukl furnish material for an article. It was 
here that, in 1759, Admiral Durdl's sijuadron waited for the rest of Wolfe's expedition. 
The tr(.ops camped for two months on the island, whose peojile had tied to the re- 
cesses of the hills behind Haie .St. Paul. Two of the lialtitaiits, eager to get news for 
the I-'rench Governor, crossed over at night, and. King in ambush among the rocks, 
surprised in the early morning two English officers, whom they carrit;tl off 10 Quebec, 
one being Uurell's grandson. 

On Cartier's arrival at the island he found Indians catching liorpoises. The .Semi- 
narists of Quebec, wIkj are the scii^itciirs, are said to ha\e carried on tlu' fishery as 
early as 1686, but the tirst regular leases of it to their conccssiouaircs are of much 
later date. A couple of hundreil porpoises have been killed in one season, and there 
is a stqry that in the good old liays three hundreil and twenty wen; once captured in 
one tide. As each porpoise yields about a barrel and a half of oil, besides the 
valuable leather the skin affords, the work is profitable to the islanders, though it has 
not always proved so to the companies thai from tim<; to tinu" h;i\e establisheil lish- 
eries on a large scale at Kamouraska, Anse de Ste. .Anne, ami Ri\iere Ouelle. The 
fisheries or pcclics are of peculiar construction. Sa|)lings, fifteen to twenty ft'ct long, 
are driven, about eighteen inches apart, into the long sIieK'ing beach from high l(j low 



so as 

to for 

rni a iied'''e, ending in a spiral curve, the racroc. 


e porpoises, chasing tlie slio.ils 


)f h 

(-■rrings ami smelts that come up the rixcr close 

in shore with the rising tide, unconsciously follow their prey inside the' pcclic. Seeking 
to get out, and frightened by the saplings shaking in the strong current, the\- swim 
along the line of the frail barrier till they are in the crook at its end. This directs 



them back to the line of saplings; they follow it again ami again, alwa\s 
themselves confronted by the obstacle, till, terrified and despairing, they give up hope 
of escape. The falling tide leaves them either stranded or confined to stretches of 




sliallow water, wlicre 
tlu-y arc- pursued liy 
boats, and killed with 
harixKin and lance. The water, 
foamini;- under their vi.ijorous ef- 
forts to avoitl tiie fate they seem to know is 
cominy-, turns red with bloody foam, and their 




piteous noise minpflrs with tlir shouts of the excited fishermen. It is a lively scene 
to watch at first, Imt soon becomes a cruelly murderous one. The massacre is soon 
over, for the porpoises keep together and show no fight, being in reality as inoffen- 
sive and helpless as sheep, notwithstanding their great size; they are from fifteen 
to twenty feet and more in length. The stories of their devotion to their young, 
of which they have generally only one, and carry it upon their fins close to their 
breast, are very touching. The mother will remain to be killed rather than leave the 
little one. 

Hut if you would know all there is to tell about the Isle au.\ Coudres, you must 
make a mental " Pilgrimage " thither with the Abbe Casgrain, or a " Promenade " 
around it with the Abbd Mailloux, its charming historians. 

From Les Eboulements downwards the majestic wall of mountains continues un- 
broken, except where the deep recess of Murray Bay affords vistas of mingled 
loveliness and grandeur, and where a few small streams forcing their precipitous way 
through the rocky barrier indent the stern shore-line with picturesque coves. All 
at once, as you skirt St. Catherine's Bay, and round Pointe Noire, the mountains are 
cleft by a mighty rift, and a tremendous chasm opens to view, black, forbidding, like 
the entrance to a world beneath the mountains. Did Roberval and his men feel this 
sudden awe when they turned from the brightness of the broad St. Lawrence in quest of 
gold as elusive as the sunbeams dancing on the waves, and began that voyage of which 
no man, to this day. knows the ending ? Did they feel this shrinking from the hills 
that rise everywhere in indignant protest? Or is it only the wind, fresh and keen, and 
bringing a strange sense of solitude from the unknown and mysterious north land, that 
strikes us with this chill ; and only the misty cloud of a rain-squall that hides the 
summits, and for a moment obscures the sun, that brings this gloom ? The evil spirits 
surely have not left tiie frowning cape which Champlain named La Pointe de lotis les 
Diablcs. One expects to meet them just as verily as did the little band of Recollets, 
who landed at Tadoussac in the year of grace, 1615, to begin their valiant crusade 
against the Father of Lies and his allies of both worlds ; and, as did, the Jesuit Pere 
Duquen. in 1647, and Father .\lbanel twenty-five years later, when he. Monsieur de 
St. Simon and the son of .Sicur Giullaume Couture, made their lonely way up this 
unknown river through the wilds of Mistassini to distant Hudson's Bay. You are at 
the mouth of the Saguenay. In a moment its weird fascination has seized you, and 
will hold you spell-bound, so long as you sail through the stillness that broods over 
the mountain shores which confine its deep black waters. 

Jacques Cartier anchored here on the ist September, 1535, having heard so much 
about the riches of the realm of Saguenay from the Indians of Gaspe, in his voyage to the 
Bale des Chaleurs in the preceding year, that he was doubtless anxious to possess them 
speedily. The accounts Donnacona, the Sachem of Stadacona, afterwards gave him. 



were well calculated to fire the enthusiasm of subsequent French explorers, while at 
the same time possessintf that full share of the marvellous, which in those days seems 
to have been convincing proof. It was a country full of ^uUl and rubies, inhabited 
by white men clothed in wool ; but farther off there were nations of one-legged men, 
and others who lived without eating, and, happy beings ! had no stomachs. Many a 
story of these wilds has been tolil since Donnacona's time, and cpiite as well qualified 
by a tinge of the supernatural to discourage the venturesome and unwelcome explorers. 
It would be a happy thing for the remnants of the Indians were they like their 
legendary ancestors ; people with one leg could not wander too far, and failure of 
game would matter little to men without need of food ; whereas, now-a-days, hardly 
a winter passes williout some of the Montagnais perishing miserably from starvation 
on hunting excursions. The incentives, however, were so great that Roberval was 
commissioned, in 1540, as ''vice rot cl licutotant general 01 Canada, Hocliclaga, Sague- 
nay, Tcrre Ncuvc, Belle-Isle, Carpont, Labrador, la (irande liaie et Baccalaos." He 
sailed in 1543, but the expedition was a failure, notwithstanding Cartier's farther dis- 
coveries In 1542. The diamonds and gold that Cartier's men showed Rol)erval have 
never since been found, and in 1544 Cartier made another voyage to bring the 
wretched survivors back to France. Roberval. it is said, again returned to the St. Law- 
rence, and with all his company sailed up the Saguenay ; they were never heard of again. 

The Malouins, Normans and Basques, who frequented the Lower St. Lawrence to 
fish and to trade for furs, used to go as far as Tadoussac before Champlain's time, 
and had penetrated a good way up the river before even Cartier ; for they had fished 
on the banks of Newfoundland and on the Labrador coast for many years before his 
day ; while the traditions of Dieppe tell of one Thomas Aubert, who ascended the 
St. Lawrence 240 miles, and brought an Indian to France in 1508. 

Pontgrave was one of the adventurous merchants and captains of St. Malo. He 
had made several voyages to Tadoussac, and, with a kindred spirit, Pierre Chauvin, 
was commanded to found a colony and establish the Catholic faith there ; for every 
commission in those days contained this pious clause, seriously enough meant, but 
generally interpreted as a license to " spoil the Egyptians." While Pontgrave preferred 
Three Rivers as a post, Chauvin laid in a supply of furs at Tadoussac, where sixteen of 
his men spent a wretched winter of hunger and cold in 1599. But, from this time 
out, the true sources of wealth in the Saguenay country were better appreciated, and 
visions of gold mines gave way to realities of cargoes of valuable furs, while the 
terrors of the interior have done service in perpetuating monopolies down to our own 
day. The superiority of the hunting, trapping, and fishing in this region was early 
recognized, and, as the means of drawing the largest possible ready money revenue 
from it, it was leased for twenty-one years at a time, in one vast block of 70,000 
miles in area, three hundred miles long from Les Eboulements to the Moisic River, 



ricri'Ri': ;ovi-. Canada. 

and stretcliiii}^ back to tlu: 
water-slied of Iliidson's 15a)'. 
Thus tlu' " Royaume dii 
Saguenay" became the " Uo- 
maiiic dii Roi." 

In 1642 the port of Tad- 
oiissac was irixen l)y D' Ar- 
genson to twelve of the I)est 

bourgeois in the country. Tlie first regular lease was to the Sieur Demaure in 1658. 
The Conseil d' Etat ordered a careful survey to be made in 1677, but the work was 
not carried out till 1732, wIumi the; surveyor Normandin completed a most faithful 
survey and map, from which the limits were fixed in the ordonnance of tlie Intendant 
Hocquart in 173;,. The Saguenay country was better known during the I'Vench 
regime than the country in the interior between Quebec and Montreal. After the 
Cession of Canada to England, "The King's Posts" continued to be leased every 
twenty-one years ; but as it was decidedly to the interests of the lessees to keep the 

riir: ia)\\i:r sr. lawkuxci:, .\.\n ////■: s.i(;f/:x,n: 


■ 658. 

k was 
[• reach 
cr the 
ep the 

resources of tlic lerritorv unknown, everythinj,' was done to rncouratjc hclici in its 
stcriliiv, in llie scN'crit}' of its clinialc, in the danjjerous nature of ihe navigation, in 
the iieit(lu of ami nuniher of the fails and rapids to lie surnionnled ; in sliorl, e\cry- 
ihin;^ to foster tile j^feiieral ij^nioranee of tlie country, and to prevent competition, for 
tile annu.d rental of this immense tract, with all the exilusise prixileLjcs, was measuriid 
hy a few hundreds of poiinils. In 1820, Monsieur I'. I aihe, the sfit^itiiii- of Kamouras- 
ka, was examined heforc a Committee of the Legislative Assenihly of Lower Canada. 
H(! had lived at I-aki' St. John for twent\-lwo ye.irs, and what he to sav of the 
forests, the richness of the soil, the climate, and the mineral wt:alth o{ that fertile 
valli-y, came likt; a revelation. The exploration made hy Hoiichette in 182S broui^ht 
conln'mation of all this, ;ind jiromisc; of much more; hut the least' to the Hudson's 
Hay C(Hnp;uiy hatl not yet expired, anil it was not till 1S37 tiiat the lirst steps could 
be taken towartls s(!ttiement. 

The i^ood work was pushed on despite all dllllculties hy the hrave colonists from 
the south shor(' ])arislies ; little h)' litth; lonelv tratlini,^ |)osts, known onl\- lo tlu' threat 
Company, the Imlians, and the dauntless missionaries, became thrivini^ \illaL;es; a belt 
of settlements has sprc^ail from .St. Alphonse and Chicoutimi, past the lonitly shores of 
Lake Kenojjjami, west and far north in the rich and beautiful \alle\- of Lake St. 
|ohn ; wher(; the bi^r |)ines fcdl beneath the lumberer's axe such ;i short time ai^o, 
there are now smiliiij^ fields of i^rain and rich jiastures. ,\nd the work jj^oes on 
bravely still, for there is room for many hiuulreds of thousands of people with 
willini^- hearts and ready hands. The "premieres annees" are only just i^one, of 
which it is so stranj^e to hear from men, many ol whom are lin<al descendants of the 
lirst settlers who set foot in Lo A'oiivcllc I-'raiicc. What old Boucher told Colbert in 
1663, wlu'ii he went home to represent the wants of the colony, is just as true of the 
Canadian settlements to-day: — '' Lcs person iics qui son t bonius dans cc Pays i(y sont i/cs 
i^t-ns qui nwltcnt la main a /' wnvrc," and his advice to emigrants is full of common 
sense : — " 'Jons Ics panvrcs oens scroicnt bicn niiciix ifv qn'oi /''roncc, ponrvcu t/n'i/s nc 
fiissciil pas parcsscnx ; en iin mot il nc fan/ pcrsonnc ifv. /an/ lioninic que Jetnnie, qui 
in- soi/ propre a nic//re ia main a /' a'tivre, it mains que d' es/re bien ric/ie." " Aes 
Iroquois nos cnneniis" live ]ieacefully at Cauji^hnawa,c[a ; one must 140 farther still to see 
any rattlesnakes; the long winters and the mosquitoes, " au/roneii/ appcllcs Cousins" 
are all that one ran now point out as "voi/a ics plus strands ineonimodi/ez don/ J'ay 
eonnoissancc," and e\en they are not so bad as tliey usetl to l)e. In trutli, the Sague- 
nay is hut the gateway to a magnificent country beyond, and the L'rench Canadians 
liave a North-west of their own at their very doors. 

Tadoussac, as we see it from the mouth of tlu' Saguena)', is to outward appear- 
ance much as it was in Champlain's time. His description of it answi-rs as well to-da\- 
as then : 


i i 

I , 




/'/(■/ r A' /:S()( /■: cv/.v. //>./. 


"Ac (//</ />(>/■/ dc '/'lufoussiu i-sf pelit, oil it iir f>oiirroil i/iir t/ix on lioitze vaissfiiiix ; 
»iai.i il y a lic /'ittii ns.u's it I' list, ti l\i/)-y <ir hi dittf Riviere diSiii^iitiuiy, Ic lotitr c/'inic 
petite Montaigne ijni est presi/ne lonpi'e ife tii nier. Le lesie ee sont Montiu'i^nes lianltes 
elevi'es oil if y a pen de teire, sinon roe/iers et stit'te.i leniplis ite /mis i/e pins, eyprez, 
sapins et qnelipies maniires d'arlires de pen. It y a nn petit estani^, pioelie dn dit port, 
renfernu' de Mont(ii<^nes eonvertes de l>ois." 

" riic said |i(irl of Tadoussac is small, and coiilil hold oiil\ icn or iwcKc \csscls; 
hut lli(r<' is wali'f (•noiiL.d'i to tin; I'ast, slu-ltcrcd hy liic said Ki\cr of SaL;iK'na\, aloiiL; 
a little iiioiintain whicli is almost cut in two 1)\- tlu; sea. I'Or the iist tl.rc ;irc 
mountains of hi^li ek-vation, whcrt- there is little soil, except rocks and sands lille<l 
with wood of pines, cypresses, sprnci-s, and some kinds of underwood lliere is a little 
jjond near the said port, enclosed by mountains covered with wood ' 

Not much of the villai^e is visible from the mouth of the river; it lies on the 
first of the benches scarjx'd in the; enormous banks of alluvium and sand that were 
washed ilown here and lotlj^ed in tlu' llanks of the hills, when this stupendous rent in 
tin; (uirth made a lu^w outlet for the waters of a ^jreat inland sea, that must then 
have existed, and farth<r evidences of which we shall see at the other end of the 

Clumps of pyramid-like spruces cover the second level, round whidi the hills close 
in complete semicircle. The view from tiiis plateau is majT^niticent. In front )()u look 
across the St. Lawrence, \\vrv. twi'nty-five miles wide, anil as smooth |)erhaps as a 
sheet of i^lass, past lie. an.\ l.ievres. He. Rou^tje, He. Hlanche, He. N'erte, towards Cacinma 
and Riviere du Loup where the south shore is but a narrow blue str'Mk sown all o\er 
with white specks, visible only on a clear, bri<rht summer day like w:'.. At the side is 
the dark Sajjuenay, and from this heitjht you clearly see the well-deline i line where its 
black waters and deep bed meet the blue and shallow St. Lawrence, and you descry the 
reefs where the tide-rip throws stranjjje frowns into the calm face of the stream ; up to 
the rii^ht \ou entilaile the coast we haxc just ])assecl. 

The bi,n hotel is al\\a\s full, for Tadoussac is a charmiuLj place to spentl a sum- 
mer in. Lord Dufferin foimd it so, and his example brouqjht others to build ])retty 
cottages. Champlain's '' petit estanjjf" is now the lake that suppli(.'s the ponils of the 
Government iMsh-breedinjjf establishment ilown at the .\nse a I'i'-au, where you 
may see thousands of youn;,'- salmon in all stajjes of deveIoi)nient, from the ova to 
livelv little fellows a couple of inches lon>j, ready to people the shallows of some 
depleted river ; and you may watch hundreds of the parent fish swiiuminj^ ma- 
jestically round the pond at the outlet, or leaping in vain at the n(>t-work barrier 
that separates them from the Saguenay and freedom. The Hudson's Hay Company's 
post is worth seeing, though sadly shorn of its former glories in the days of mono|)oly. 
But chief in interest is the little church, built in 1750, on the site of the bark-covered 




uit wliich served as a mission 
chajjel iinlil llie tirst iluiirli was 
hiiilt in 164S. I'rom i()_^9 lo 1 jSj, 
when llie secular clerL;) siucectleil 
tlieiii. tile [esuits did a noMe work 

There was a missionary held lor 
voii. - from the Sagiienay away 
down lo Sept ll<;s, and from the 
St. Lawrence hack to Iliidson's 
Hay. The story of their devotion 
is tilly closed l)y the wonderful 
legend of the last Jesuit who gath- 




riiF. i.ownR ST. i.wvRiiscr. .t.v/> ////■: s.igui-xay. 


iTcil tl\<r swarthy MoiU.ij^n.iis r(iiii\il liim in this \(!ry ihiin h. I'iic l,a Urosse, whosi- 
memory is dear amoii},^ thrin to litis ila\'. It {(iincs from an «y«;-witm:ss, who ilicd 
ill 1674, ami is tlioroujjltly well attestc(i ; (wpiain it as yon may. 

Tht! fatliiT iiail l)ccn workinj^ hard .ill ila)', as nsnal, amoiii^ his (onscrts and in 
the services ol the ciinrch, and had spent th<' ••veiiini; in pliasant lonverse with sonu; 
of llie oHiicrs of tile posl. Their ani.i/emenl and in(re(hdiiy may lie imai^imd when, 
as he Ljot n|) to j^ni, he l)adi' thi'm i^ood-hye tor eternit)', and annonneed liiat at my\- 
iii^ht he wdiilil l)e .1 corpse, aildirj;^' tiiai tiie Iwll of his ch.iiiei would toll for his 
passinj^ soni at that hour. lie told them if they ilid not Ixlieve hin> tiiey could 
j^o ami see for themsehcs, i)ut lt<'},f).ieil them not to tou( h his l)ody. lie hade them 
fetch Messire Compain, who would l)e waitin;.^ for them ni!.\l day at the lower i:iul of 
Isle au\ Coudres, to wrap him in his shroud and hury him ; and this they were to do 
without lu'ftlinjj what the weather should he, f(,r he would answer for the; safety of 
those who undertook the voyajjje. The little party, astounded, sat, watch in hand, 
markiu},^ the hours pass, till at the lirst stroke of miilnij,du the i ha|)el-l)ell hes^an to toll, 
and, tremlilinj^ with fear, tlu'\- rnsh<;d into the church. There, prostiate before the 
altar, hand^ ioined in pr.iyer, shrouding his face alike from the lirst j^limpse of the 
wdley of tlK; shadow of death, and from thi' daz/linj; i,dor)' of the waitiniL,' an^jels, lay 
I'ere I, a Mrosse, dead. What fear and sorrow must have miniL^leil with the pious 
hop('s aiul tender prayers of those roujj;h trathtrs and rouijjher Indians as, awe-stricken, 
ihe\- kept xii^il that April nij^ht. With sunrise canu; a \ioIent storm ; Imt mindful of 
his command and promise, four hrave men riskeil their lives on the water. The lash- 
in;^ waves parted to form a calm path for their canoe, and wondrousl\' soon they were 
• It Isle aux Coudres. There, as had been foretold by Pen: La Hrosse, was .M. 
Compain waitini.,^ on the rocks, breviary in hand, and as soon as they were in hearing, 
his shout tolil them he knew their strange errand. T'or the night before he had been 
niysteriousl)' warncnl ; the bell of his church was lolled at midnight by in\ isibU; hands, 
and a voice; had told him what hatl happened and was yi-t to happen, and had bid 
him be reaily to ilo his otihce. In all the missions that I'ere La Hrosse hail served 
the church bells, it is said, marketl that night his d)ing moment. 

To this charming legend the Abbe Casgrain adds: " I'Or many years the Indians, 
going up and down the Sagiienay, never |)assed 'Tadoussac without prating in the 
church where reposed the body of him who had been to them the image of their 
TIcavenly T'ather. 'They prostrateil themselves with faces to the ground above his 
tomb, and, placing their mouths at a little opening made in the floor of the choir, 
they talked to him as in his lifetime, with a confidence that could not fail to touch 
God's heart. Then they ajjplied their ears to the orifice to hear the saint's answer. 
In the ingenuousness of their faith and simplicity of their hearts they imagined that 
the good father heard them in his cot'fin, that he answered their (juestions, and after- 


wards transmitted to 
God tlu'ir prayers. 
This loiiciiinjj cus- 
tom lias ceased since 
the removal of the 
remains of I'ere I -a 
Brosse ; the aban- 
donment and ruin 
into which the chapel 
of Tadoussac had 
fallen decided the 
removal of these 
holy relics a j^ood 
many years ago to 
the Church of Chic- 

The missionaries 
had not always to 
deal with such docile 
savages, for, in the 
summer of 1661, the 
Iro(]uois (.lescended 
to Tadoussac and 
killed several I'rench- 
men, Fathers Daii- 
lon and Driiilleles 
escaped, I'.aving start- 
ed up the river on 
a journey to 1 lutl- 
son's Hay, in which 
expedition, howtiver, 
the\' ilid not succeed. 
In 162S the Kcrtks 
took possession of 
the post, and one 
may he sure that, in 
those days of hard 
knocks and strong 
opinions, the Jesuits 



did not fare too well at tlu' Iiaiuls of Hiij^uenots, who for lluir religion liad to give 
up their nationahty and scx-k stTvicc witii luijjlaiui. 

In ascending tlu; Sagiienay for the first time the scale of its scenery is hewiidcr- 
ing ; everything is deceptive, till even a feeling of disappointment iniiii^li's with iha^ of 
awe. Norwegian fiords are grander, and tlu; Riiint; is more picturescpic, so the glib 
tourists say as they wonder at the impr(;ssion which these seemingly low hills so evi- 
dently make upon all on board. Hut by ilegrees the immensity and majesty assert them- 
selves. As an abrupt turn Ijrings llut Sieamer close in shore, you riialize that the other 
bank is a mile, aye two miles distant, ami that the black baml at the i)asi' of the 
mountains, which roll away oni; beyond the other, is in truth tl.e shadoweil face of a 
mighty cliff, rising sheer from the water's edge, like that which now towers nearly two 
thousand feet above you. Ihere is an inilescrioabk; grandeur in the very monotony of 
the interminable succession of jirecipice anil gorge, of lofty bluff and deep-hi?wn bay ; 
no merk monotony of outline, for (very bt;nd of the rl\er changes the pictures in the 
majestic panorama of hills, water, and sk)', and every rock has its individuality ; but 
the overwhelming reiteration of the same grand theme with 'nfinite variety of detail, 
till the senses are overpoweied by the evidences of mighty force — force, which you 
know, as surely as you see those grim masses of syenite, split and rent by up- 
heaval, seamed and scarred by ice-bergs, was once suddenly, irresistibl)' active, but 
has now lain dormant for ages of ages. There is the inevitable sternness of the mani- 
festation of great power, and this effect is heightened by the transparency of the 
atmosphere, which allows no softening of the clear-cut lines, and heightens their bold 
sweep by intense shadows sharply delincxl. There is no rich foliage ; forest (ires have 
swept and blackened the hill tops; a scanty growth of sombre lirs and slender birches 
replaces the lordly pines that once crowned the heights, and struggles for a foothold 
along the sides of the ravines and on the ledges of the cliffs, where th(^ naketl rock 
shows through the tops of trees. The rare signs of life only accentuate the lonely 
stillness. A few log-houses on an opportune ledge that overhangs a niche-like cove, 
a shoal of white porpoises gambolling in the current, ;i sea-gull circling overhead, a 
white sail in the distance, and a wary loon, whose mocking call echoes from the rocks, — 
what are they in the face of these hills which were made when "the springs of waters 
were seen, and the foundations of tlu; round world were discovered." 

Some writers describe the Saguenay as cold, dreary, inhuman, gloomy. Surely 
they never saw it with the light of the rising sun streaming through its gorges, glad- 
dening its vast solitudes, dancing on the ripple of the rurrenl, gleaming over the broad, 
calm bays, playing on the waterfalls that shine like silver threads among the dark- 
green firs, searching out the inmost recesses of the giant clefts, throwing warmth and 
colour into grey syenite ami sombre gneiss. Did they trace the rellection of Cape 
Eternity down through unfathomable depths, and then with bewildered eye follow the 






unbroken sweep of that calm profile upwards and upwards, till sight was led on past 
the clouds into the infinite ? Had the triune majesty of Cape Trinity, stern, solemn, 
and mysterious, no other impression for them than one of gloom ? Did these moun- 
tain walls not seem to them like lofty portals, guiding straight into the opal glory that 
lights the western sky at sunset ? Throughout all this grandeur of lonely Nature in 
her wildest mootl, there comes a calm which tempers awe. You feel why the Poet King 
found in the great rocks his imagery of security, and how truly he sang, " The moun- 
tains also shall bring peace." 

After sixty miles of this overpowering ruggedness, the fields and houses aroutid 
Ha-Hii Bay bring back a memory of civilization, — not a very pronounced impression, 
for the little hamlets of St. Alphonse and St. Alexis, and the scattered cottages which 
are with difficulty distinguished from the gigantic boulders strewn along the slopes, 
seem lost in the vast amphitheatre. The story goes that the bay was named from 
the surprised laugh of the first l'"rench explorers who, sailing as they thought straight 
up the river, found themselves in this huge cul-dc-sac. The name is apter to express 
the feeling of relief one experiences when the mountains recede for a space, and afford 
as it were license to s[)eak with unbated l)reath. To a geologist tlie traces of the 
great convulsion are nowhere more striking tiian here, where you liave the evidences 
of an almost inconceivable torrent. The bay is, in truth, simply what is left unfilled 
of one branch of the Saguenay cleft. Twenty miles straight on inland, Lake 
Kenogami, fifteen miles long, half a mile wide, a thousand feet deep, surrounded by 
cliffs and mountains, confirms the proof that the immense alluvial deposits, which form 
the greater part of the peninsular-shaped strip from Lake St. John to where the Sag- 
uenay and Ha-Ha Bay separate, are the di'bris, washed down by a Hood like thousands 
of Niagaras tearing through an abyss opened in a moment. The islands in Lake St. 
John, and the smooth, rocky hillocks that occur so strangely in the clay-lands above 
Chicoutimi, are the water-polished tops of mountains buried in sand and clay. 

At Ha-Ha Bay arable lands begin. Once beyond the hill and you can drive on a 
good road one hundred and fifty miles or so over a score of rivers, away past the 
south-west shore of Lake St. John. Many a happy settlement will you see, only 
waiting for a railway and i market to develo|) it into a thriving town. Away beyond 
them again, to the north. ;ip the two hundred ami twenty miles of rapid and fall over 
which the River MI:>[assini drains the water of Lake Mistassini, which is nearly as 
large as Lake Ontario ; up the .Ashuapmouchouan to the north-west, and the broad 
Peribonca to the north-east ; southwanls down the Metabetchouan, and along the chain of 
lakes that stretch to near (Quebec ; all round this lovely Lake St. John are fertile valleys 
waiting to be peojjled. The vastness of the vast Dominion of Canada is getting to 
be a rather threadbare topic for Governors-General and emigration agents ; but has 
any one really a conception of the room there is in it for willing workers, when in one 





province only, and that a much niali},nied and sorely despised one, there is a country 
good for so much and so many as this ahnost uni<no\vn jjortion of Quebec. 

But our way lies alon<r the Saj^uenay a while longer. The narrow passage once 
passed, where the steamer undergoes the stern scrutiny of Cap Est and Cap Quest, 
grim and stark cliffs, set only half a mile apart, one begins to see tiny settlements here 
and there in the ravines between the Hanks of the hills, and on the narrow strips of 
meadow between their base and the river. Trees are more numerous and of a sturdier 
growth. Cattle are browsing, and people driving along the roads. Boats are moving 
about, and tugs are taking lumber to the vessels anchored in mid-stream. 

In the distance the tall spire of Chicoutimi church marks the end of the steamer's 
voyage, for Chicoutimi is well named, if the derivation from the Cree, " Ishko-timew," 
"up to here it is deep," be correct, and I'ere Lajeune, in the ''Relation" of 1661, says 
that Chicoutimi is " lien remarqiiable pour 6tre la terme de la belle navigation et le com- 
mencement lies portages." 

Chicoutimi 's set on an hill and cannot be hid. It is not a city indeed, but it is an in- 
corporated town, the seat of a bishopric. Beautiful for situation, it is the joy of the whole 
little world up here. I'or are there not sidewalks, and shops, and a convent, and a 
college, and a good hotel, the view from the gallery of which is something to live for. 

Chicoutinr was one of the earliest Jesuit missions and a great fur-trading centre, 
becoming afterwards one of the principal posts of the Hudson's Bay Company. In 
16-C a chapel was built, and in 1727 another, of the fragrant and durable white cedar. 
The latter was in crumbling existence in 1S50, but had been sadly pulled to pieces by 
relic-hunting visitors. The remains of the little buiUling were finally covered with a 
mound of earth by Mr. Price in order to save them from destruction, and the site was 
railed round. ^Iany interesting relics from the interior have been preserved. The 
Chicoutimi River forms a fine fall of forty feet high just at the end of the main 
street. This river, in its course of seventeen mHes from Lake Kenogami, descends 486 
feet by seven falls ami a continuous series of rapids. The portage at one of the falls 
takes its name of "Portage de I'Enfant" from the story of an Indian baby, who was 
left in a canoe that, being carelessly fastened, was carried away by the current and 
leaped the fall of fifty feet without upsetting. At the mouth of the Chicoutimi is the 
great lumbering establishment of Messrs. Price Brothers & Co., the veritable kings of 
the Saguenay, whose influence is as far reaching as it is beneficently exercised. The 
founder of the house, Mr. David Price, Sr., may truly be said to have "made" the 
•Saguenay district, and his memor\ is justly held in respect. Th(? stories of his wars 
with the Hudson's Bay Company, when told by some old French canoe-man at the 
camp-fire, sound like bits from the Book of Chf-onicles. Nearly everybody in this 
region is, or has been, a lumberer, canoe-man, or a gatherer of spruce gum, of which 
quantities are exported from Chicoutimi to make varnish and for other purpose.s. It 






takes little persuasion to coax a man to spend a siimtner in a canoeing trip, or to 
join " Ics i^cus (]iii foul Ui drax'c" as tiiey oddly paraphrase the English liiinhercrs' 
expression, "in ilrivc " logs down stream. 
OiJjxisilc Cliicoutimi is the i)i';tures(pie 

lasje <i 

f Sf. A 

line, perc 




a lorn 


le etl'^e ( 

)t wiiic 




il that leads to J cries Roiiipi 


"broken lands." whence you take a last look down tiie long, beautiful vista of the 
Saguenay, iicfore xou turn to scale the lhirty-ti\'e miles of falls and rapids that have 
to be mounied before \()u see the l)irth-place of this mighty ri\er, which is as broad 


d"e|) and strong at its ver\- beginning as it is at its uk 


Hut th 

ere IS no space 

here to tell of the beauties ami wonders of the U 



Saguena\-. of the headlong rush with which tin- waters of Lake St. John, that 
by forty streams, tiiree of them rixcrs as large as the Saguenay itself, tear through 

irand Discharirc, of the yiirantic whirlpools 


e narrow coiinui' ;i 

t the head of the ( 

and the rapn 

where the waves toss hilloi:ks o 

le gigantic wliirip 
)f milk-white foam hiiih in the air, of 

the 1 

oveU' IS 

and-studded ('xpanses, of ihi- isolated settlements and their simple, <rood 

learted \>('.o\ 

lie, of i. 

le rt)ck_\' portages, of the 

'ii nan is he 

loM'liest aiul >i;uiiest of all 

the salmon tril)e, of the monster pike and 

(lore, o 

f tl 

le swarmiiisr trout, ol 

the 1 


d the bears. N( 

.f 1., 

ike S 

t- J 

ohii, w 1 

th lis bl 




.-es, ami tlu 

'reat white vt.'il ot tin; Ouiatchouan !'" 

evcr\- p 

oiiit, as it leajis three hundretl feet from a rock\' 

iiige oi mountains. Us rolhng 

, \i: 'Me for thirty miles from 

iiluff, I lastiiii'' testimoin- of 


e grt'at catacKsm tiiat surpnsei 

1 tl 

le ri\-er Ik 

fore it couiil chaiiLie its betl. 

ou must 

see them yourself, leaxc the tourist groo\i', ami 011 the stream and b)- camp-lire, with 

your brown-tacetl guides, live the lile and sing the song ot hi 



"Ell (ii,"(i/ d'reoric <]ui T'li." 

So far the north side of the Lower St. L.iwrence has furnished these sketches. 
Not th.'it the other shore is dexoid of attraction. The beaten track for ordinary 
travellers runs indeed at tin- back of e\ciythiiig. \'ou might traxcl oxer iIk; Inter- 
colonial Railway \ear in and \iar out without giu'ssing what beautiful bits of sceiu-ry, 
quaint old paiishes. and charming peoph: ,ire to be found just bi:\oiul the aggravating 
ridge that lies between the r.iihvay ami tlu; river. To be sure oik; gels an occasional 
glimpse of the St. Lawreiue a Heeling |iiclure framed in a window-sash— that wakes 
an une.isy frejin;.; of missing a good deal that ought to be seen ; there are some 
lovely vitnvs at the river crossings; and a saunicM' through tlu; train, av a hurried walk 
on a station-platform, suggests there is a good deal to study of a life cjiiite ilif- 
ferent from .uiytliing else in .America. 

Just a word lor the wiiulniills. CJut of Holland, was ever a country so full of 



at the otlicr. Wlicii the wind Mows tlic halutaut 

fastcMis four Ijoards to tlie four poles, tlie sails are 

coinplete, and, while his wlu'at is thrashino-, he can siiij^ like his brother, the rafts- 
man — 

"Via /•■ I'cn vent, v'la If joli ven! , . 

Ala mic iii'a/if>e/lt\" 

\'o need for a broad tail to pivot the machine to windward. Nature wants no 
weather-cocks here ; the barns are oriented as carefully as the churches, for the breeze 

fm"' 1 





! f 

blows eitlier up or down tlic riser, cold and fo<,'s^y from tlu' north-cast, balmy antl 
cloiid-dispcilinji^ from tiic south-west. 

It is not till Bic is n(;arly reached that the St Lawrence bursts full upon the view, 
and the salt air blows fresh in your face. Hie is a charming spot. In contrast with 
the wide vistas of tlie northern shore, you liave here a picture, tiie whole of 
which the eye seizes at a <;lance. yet it is on a tjrand scale. The hills, not sur- 
passed in heijfht and abruptness by those of .Murray May and Les liboulements, form a 
frame-work rounii the quadranjjular bay, whose waters liml their way in amonjr ihem 
by numerous coves, bordered by sharp slo]ies and ru_<,fifed hillocks. A beach stretches 
away from the steep incline, above which the village lies along a siuij; plateau. At 
low tide, beyoni.1 the beach, are wide llats, where black and sea-weed co\ered rocks 
surround little pools. Throu^jh the llats meander the waters of two rivers, one at 
each end of the bay. placidly restint,' after their impetuous course ilowii liie ravines, 
and jflad to reach th(,'ir cw^X. The narrow mouth of tlu; ba)' is j^uanled i)\- tall bluffs, 
between which stretch two islands, forminp a nalu'-al breakwater ai^ainst the swell that 
the north-east wind dashes in vain at^ainst their steep shores. .\ few miles out the 
dee]jly-woodeil islaml of Mic lies ilark on the blue expanse, ant! away bcyoml is the 
northern coast, misty and xai^ue on the horizon. 

Lontj a!:;o. when the Souri(]uois, as the Micmac bronch of the jL^M'eat Alji[onquin 
family were called, luild the siiores of the .St. Lawrence fiom Ciaspe to Stailacona, the 
Toudamaiis. the forbears of tlu' Irocpiois, harried tlu;m incessantly, as afterwards the 
Iroquois harried the llurons and the l'"r(!nrh. A band of Souricpiois were camped 
once on the shore at Hie, when tiieir scouts found sijj^ns of the enem\'s near ap|)roach. 
W o'nen ami children were many, and warriors few ; escape b\' land was hopek'ss, ami 
there were not enoutjh canoes for all. .So they sought shelter in a cave on one of 
the islands; but the lynx-eyed Iroquois ilescried the faint tracks almost efface<l by the 
tide, and, at low water, waded out to the assault, which, thrice repulsed, was renewed 
at each ebb-tide. Vwv. did what numbers could not (effect. Those of the Micmacs 
who were not suffocated in the cavern were dri\-en by the tlames tf) meet death and 
scalpinjj on the rocks outsiile. I'"i\e warriors, however, had s^one to l^rini;; help from 
their kinsmen, the Mahicites, on the head-waters of the River St. John, and they took 
a fearful \en<^eance. The exultant Iroquois found their taclic discovered, their canoes 
and ])rovisions destroyed, and a weary march befon; them of hundreds of miles 
throutjh a stransj^e country, with watchful and wily foes always on their trail. Not 
one of the Iroquois reached home. Such is a meatjre outline of the thrillintj story 
the old Micmac hunters will tell you, with many a contemptuous sneer at tluur hered- 
itary enemies. Donnacona tokl it to Cartier ; M. Tache has embodied it in one 
of his jrraphic "Trois l.i'iicndcs" and the name of the "lift dii Massacn" perpetuates 
the tradition, which Kerland says is confirmed by the discovery of a mass of human 





I! .. 



lioius, I nunc! some 
jcars a^o in a cave 
on oiu; of the Bic 

Only a few miles 
more and Rimouski 

and Father Point, where the ocean '^^ 

steamers laml their iiassenncrs, 
impatient of another iialf-day's sea voyat^c to Ouelier. ar(< passe<l. and tlien tlfe train 
turns shari)ly away from the river to wind tiiroui^h tlic ravines of Metis, to elamlier 
over the hills to Tortatriie and Sayai)ec, and to descend the valley of ilie crystal 
Matapedia, following- the canoe route the Indians ha\'e used for centuries, and which 
many a jjriest had to tramp on snow-shoes on his solitar)' winter journi'\-to the Baie 
des Chaleurs Missions. They were stout of h(>art and sturdy of liml) those early 
missionaries. Just think of I'ere Albanel, the same who mounted the Say^uenay, walk- 



iiiif all tJK; way from I'civr to OucImc in tin; winter of 1679, Yet it is set down 
as a Tiicn.' ilcin in his itinerary, a matter of business necessity ; tiresome, but (juite in 
tlie usual course. 

Ho\ve\cr, \vc are K^'^K ^'^ I'erce by water. The breeze freshens' the lonj,r, slow 
swell lias in it somewhat of the ocean's roll ; the opposite shore begins to fade away, 
for at Point d(.- Mons the coast trends sharpl)' to the north-east, so that at Moisic 
there is seventy miles widtii of water; ami the river is beconiin_<r the (iulf of .St. 
l-awrence. Skirtini.^- the south shore we pass He. St. Harnabe. where, towards the 
end of last century, a iiermit lived; Cap a la Haleine, rc'mindiniLjf one of the wiiale- 
tishin^- of the liascjues, uiiere Cartiir turned homewards on his first \()\a<je ; Les llets 
Mechins, the "evil islands," where the L;iant ilemon lay in wait for unbaptized Indians, 
and lirained th(-m with a pine-tree for a club ; Cap Chat, a stupid \ul_<;arism of Cap 
de Chastes, where the hirst Royals were wrecked in 1S13. The .St. Lawrence has 
been the tond) of man\' an ICm^lish soldier and sailor before and since then. In 
1690, Sir William Phipps lost nine of his ships as he returneil from the unsucce: uful 
attack on Ouebec. ( )ver there, to the northward, you can just m.ike out throuijh 
the tjlass the rocky shore of lonely lie. aux (ICufs, where, on a fos^^oy August night 
in 171 I, eiL;ht transjjorts of .Sir i loventlen Walker's ill-fated lleet were wrecked on 
the reefs, ;uid, when morning l)roke, the sands were strewn with the red-coated 
bodies of a thousand of (jueen .Anne's best soldiers, and Ouebec was again saved. 
Tradition has it that jean I'aradis, an old I'rench sea-dog, who had -been captur- 
ed by the ICnglish, would not act as pilot, and allowed them to run straight on 
to death ; also that a Miss Roulh, one of the Court beauties, who had elojjed 
with .Sir liovenden Walker, was drowned in the Siuyrua McrchiVit, out; of the lost 

The cliffs seem low. lint they are three hundred feet above the beach. At -Ste. 
Anne des Monts the hills tower to a height of a thousand feet only half a mile back 
from the shore, and behind them rise the Shickshaws and the Notre-Dame range, 
which is the backbone of the Ciaspe Peninsula, and the easternmost prolongation of 
the .'Mleghanies. The snow lies deep on these mountains long into the year, and cov- 
ers them again when as yet the; leaves hartlly fallen in the; valleys below. It is 
a wild country there;. Just one road follows the contours of that rocky coast all the 
way to Gas[)e. It le.ids through lonely ravines rich with foliage; it crosses many a 
beautiful gorge ami sparkling stream ; it climbs the hills here ; and there it creeps 
round their base on the gravelly beach ; it passes through sombre woods, to come out 
again to full ila\light on tlu; very edge of tremendous precipices, at whose foot the 
surf beats inc(;ssantly ; it has old fashioned-ferries across the coves; it leails to no 
towns, only to little out-of-th(!-worKl fishing villages and signal stations; it has no 
cross-roads. If vou would cross the mountains, you must follow the salmon up the 

TiiF. ST. r.AWRENcn, A\n rrff- s.\r,rF.N.\y 


river, or tlic track of llir cariliou to tlic mossy swamps, wlicn- tlw |)iti'licr |)laiu, tlic 
Indian's ciii), lias its iiomc, to wlicrc the lakes lie still and calm amiil the hills, ami ihi' 
waters turn towards the iiaic dcs Clialenrs. 

Past till! Cap lie la Madelaine, where the wail ol ihe " Hi tullititi </<■ /</ MtuiiU\iiu\' 
cryinj,j for Christian si-pultiiri-. is heard all nii^ht lon^; .iIkinc the howliiiL; ol the storm 

At Ste. 

k; hack 


ation of 

and cov- 

It is 

all the 

many a 


DUie out 

foot the 

s to no 

has no 

up the 


and the roar of the breakers; past I'ox River and Ca|) di's Hosiers, wh(;nce the I'"rench 
outposts first saw Wolfe's lleet, and where, on storm\ ni},dils, the emii^n-aiits drowned in 
the "Carrick" call in vain for n^scue from the terrible surf; and Cap|)e is in view. 
The Confederation .Act has ^iven Cape l^-(-ton a statutory claim lo he the Land's 
End of Canada; i)ut Caj) C.aspe has history, tradition and etvmolo^^ry in its favour, .\t 
siirht of it the two Indians, whom Cartier was l)rin;^in,i.i- haik to their own country, the 
lirst Canadians that visited \.\\v. Old World, cried with joy, llon-iiedo! I lon-iu'do !, and 
this hold i)romontory, held tlrm by the mountains a^^ainst the ceasi-less assaults of the 
sea, was loni;- the si.on that " La Nouvelle !•' ranee " was at list in sioht. M. i'aucher de 
Saint \hiurice savs that in Montayiiais toui^ue it is cilled " (,'iii/iaks/>C(jiic." which is, 
hein<r interpreted, "the v.ntX of the earth." Its cliffs, seven hundred feet sheer, over- 
han<r the sea for miles in one stern unbroken wall of j,rrey rock, banded with reil and 



I ^ 

1 . 

1 4 

1 1 ' ■ " 

! ^ \ 

i ' 



/'/C / UK/wSQi •/:• CAXA/^A, 

black, polislicd l)y the incessant lashin^f of the spray, which the open ocean dashes far 
ii]) its lace, and tenanted hy cloutls of sea-birds. Above the cape rises its inoiuitain 
i)iittress, towi!rinj4 from mossy sU)pes of tMnis, that cross each otiier in wild confusion 
at tile base of a mii^hty precipice, where crystal rills trickh' down, and the d.iinty blue 
bells liinj; to llie crevices, and tile wild rose llntis a foothold. I'p to 1S51, l.c l-'ovilloH, 
a stranue, isolated rock, stood solitarv in the se.i, a stone's throw from the end of the 


nt ; it h, 

is Ljneii Its name to the wiiole promontory, an 

d its India 

n name 



th.U wliiih is separate," is tlu' original of (iaspe, apjiropriatelv (inoiigh, for this is an 


rc'ion mi 


he 1" 

rench calleil tlii' rock " /.a I icillc" from the rese 


blance, bCrland savs, the bunch of trees on its summit ijave it to " tlu- head of a 

Oman covered with a large coif, such as our Caiuulian grantlmothcrs used to we 



lisn name 

Ship II(;ad," taken from its subsecjULMit strange likeness to a 

sliii) umler lull sail, is s 



to tl 

le 1 

oint. But tlu' vvavi:s have lonu si 

nice svve 


aw. IV all tiMces o 

f the rock itsi'lf. 

.And now tiaspi' H.iy opens to view, 
lontr, liv<' or six wide at its mouth. .\11 



a lovelv sheet of w.iter, fift 

een miles 


the north side it is closely bordered by 

the mount. lins, whose steep slopt's v\\<\ .ibruptlv in cliffs at the watc'is' edge. .A mighty 
upheaval there must have W.c.w to tilt the whole countrv up at such an angle, for the 
rpendiciihir precipices on the .St. Lawrenci- silt; are but the ileaii-cut outer edge of 


iu' Harder s 

coves, vviiere 

ir.ii.i at the found. ition of the hills 


le c 

lilfs are indeiiteil bv 



strips of saiul, and Ixjaches riclilv coloured with pebbles of all hues, 
afforil 'ooni to kind the boats and drv tin- nets ol the numeious lishing stations that 
stud the shore. In inanv places huUli'rs U;ad ilovv n into these coves, for the banks are 

so straight that voii cat 

1 ilnve www. 


leir etlire aiul 

.k d 

own into the boats 1\ 


alongside the lloals. On the edge of the coves are the warehouses, one storey high on 

ir where, supported on staging and piles, they overhang 


e nlale.iu above, three or loi 

the vv.itiT Round the wareliouses are dust 
nd verv pleasant are th 

ers ot coltasjes ; there are fields 



and gram 

growing in them, and very |)leasant are these bright spots among the dark woods and 
sombre hill-tops. bivideiitly the people are farmers only when the wind blows too 

iiijli tor the boats to go 011 

t. or when the fish have not " struck 



e cro|)s are 

not poor 



1 tl 

for the soil, t 

iou>'"h 1' 

rockv' just here, is gootl when there is any soil at al 


abundance of ma^niticent farmin>'' laiul in the rich valle\s and ferti 


Is of (1 



are all tlu; characteristics of a lish 

vervthiii'i' is i)iiilt to stain! a 

hard blow. There 

ing village, 
ire nets everywhere, hanging on the 


ces, I 

)ll(.Ul up l)V 

bv tl 

le roaiisK 


or 111 


s oil shore. hauUn 

e. dangling from the gables at the barns. Hoats are at 
1 up in rows on the beach, ami King in the fielils antl 

ardt'iis ; wlien niiite past serv ice 

in the wat(M- thev do diitv 

on land as hencoops and 



ere are tis 


made like hunlles aiul covered with dried cod and 
haddock, which little boys lazily turn, so as to give sun and air full play. Marrels of 



mackcrfl ;uul licrrlnj,' and \y,\'^<. of salt arc licapcd 
np tn tile caves of ilic slicils. Aiuliofs and spars 
arc pili'd in cvcr\' corner. ^ Du nuii nun carry- 
inj^ an oar, a sii-in:^ ol coik nellloats, or a coil 
of rope, or drivinj,' a liay-cart fidl of nets. I'lic 
wonien ami L;ii'i are husy on tlie slopes niendinjj; 
ni'ts torn hy do^-lisii or slra\' sharks ; ficsh ,iir, 
salt spray, .iiul frei|iienl turns at liie oar, account 
foi" tlieii- luiscnn futures ami rosy cjieeks. .\ simple, 
iionest, kindl}' folk, these lisher piDple, ,uid rc- 
li}.;imis, too, as the numlier of tin\- i hurclies at- 
tests. A hard life theirs, fur this is a terrible coast 


for ij;ales, and the win- 
ter is lonj,r. Some art" 
well-to-do, but \.\m: money Ljoes 
mainly into the pockets of the 
if real |ersey tirnis. who have for 
\'ears ninnopolized the lisheries. It 
may almost be saiil of thi' (laspd 
tishermen, as Cartier said of the 
pesians of his time. " 1 lardly any jioorer peo- 
ple can be found in the world, and I believe 
that all together they would not have the , 

worth of five sous beyond their boats antl nets." 

About ten miles up, the width of the bay 
decreases to three, and "oes on narrowing for 

four miles farther, where two long capes projecting, one on each side, make a 
natural breakwater for a beautiful harbour formed by the estuaries of the Rivers 


/'/( /Y7v7:'.SVr/: C. I .V. I /Kl. 


•||IK(ll'(;:i llli: IKI Nc II CUUNTRV. 

Dartiiioiitli ami ^'()l■k. I'ln- nioiith 
of tile lall'i" is ai^aiii slicltcrcd 1)\' 
friendly [xiints throiii^di the narrow cntraiicf 
betwecMi whicii (iaspc Masiii is rcaclird. as traii(|uil a haven 
of rcfiii^c as cm !){• iniai^incil. I'lic little town of (laspi; lies 
on the northci-n side of tiic i)asin, its houses scatlei-ed alonij; a 
j^recn slope that rises hij^h aliove the wharves and reil-roofed 

\v.irehoiises on th<: IxNich. In the docks and out in the stream is a tiu-ious collection 
of vessels I a trim (iovernment cruiser just rt;turne(l from Anticosti ; odd-lookinj^f 
foreign liar(|ues come for lari^oes of fish ; l)!;^' three-masters loaded with salt ; trim 
schooners tittini^ out for the Ciulf; an American yacht, rivalling the man-ol-war in 
smartness of crew, ;uid in freciuency of liriuL; ; tin- regidar passenj^er steamer that plies 
on the Haie des C'haleurs ; sharp-ended, red-sailed I'lshinj^r boats ready for any weather; 
and, strangest ciaft of all, a hut^e scow used as a ferry-boat, and dexlerousl)- worked 
by one man I There is an air of leisure about everythinLj, And truly, though (iasjje 
is no idle, half-forgotten port from which the ,L,dory of former ilays has !^n)ne for('ver, 
like some .\tlanlic towns, but a i)ros|>erous .ind bus\- little j)lace, it does seem to 
the uncommercial traveller as if town, vessels and warehouses wire there' but as 
pacts of a picture, thrown into the comixisition for the sakt: ot lile, colour and 
contrast. I'or you are in the midst of the wildest scenery. Three lar<rc rivers, 
cleavim^- their way throui^h the hiirhest hills of the wholi; St. I.awri'nce District, — 
if not of Canad.i, cast of the Rocky Mountains, — converge towards the head of 
the bay. To the north and east are the peaks we have seen from the St. Law- 
rence ; to the w(;st, the bc'autiful vale of the .St. John; to the southward, beyond the 

rill: iau\i:r s i\ i.awk i:\ch:, .i\n riii- s.n.inww. 


mcadiiws (if I )()iij^rlast(>\vn, rises ilic l,il)\ liiiili nl mnimiains, ilnniiMli \\li(is<' )^i)ry;rs llic 
Iii\(licsi 111,1(1 ill '";iii:i(l.i Iciitis to I'cr(('. lorcst imlndki ii, s;i\i' in |i;Ucli(s on the 
ni'iircr slojic, sti"ft<'iii's away for miles in e\cry direilion, e\((|il id tlie east, where ilie 
\\hil<' sails on llie li.i\, llie liL;hl-lionses on tlie |i(>inl'<, llic iloinl on the lioii/on 
lead tlie eye to tile open scil. 

It |)n)i)al)ly just at the eiitraiu'e to (iaspc- Masiii that, "on the third of May 
(15.^')), I>ein<^ tlur solemnity of tiie llol\' Cross, C'artici- (.ni.ed to lie jihinled with L;reat 
pomp a cross lhirty-ri\(; feet hii^h, upon whicii w,is .m cMailcheon with the arms of 
I'raiK c ;ind liearin^^ these words in Koman letters : I'"ran(;is(Mis Primus 1 )(i (ii-atia I'ran- 
cornin Ke\ Uei^nal." Tiiis ceremony recalls the interest ini^' acionnt of the \-eneralion 
of the ci'oss li\' (me trili." of llie (laspesians, the Indians (if tlie Miiamichi 
District, t;i\('n li\ IV're I ,<• ( lerc(pi, in his "Noindle Rel.iiion de la ( 'iasp(Jsie," |)nli- 
lished in Kxii, \\\\A conlainiiiL^ a history of his mission at ( iaspe from the \ear 1675. 
As he himself remarks, this sinj,nilar custom mi^du well persnadt! us that these pi opie 
had fornie|-|\' received a . 

knowledge of Christianity, 
which had .afterwards Ix^en 
lost thronj^h the ne_t,decl of 
their ancestors. I''erland 
derives the custom from 
imitation of the I'Vench, 
hut the tradition i;i\oii by 
I.e Clerc([ii, and, iiidec.'d, 
the whole of the cir- 
cumstances, are ae;ainst 
s n c li an explanation. 
C'.irtier's cross, and an 
occasional meeting with 
the sailors of a I'rench 
lishing vessel, could hartl- 
ly have impressed upon 
these most conservative 
of all people the sacred- 
iiess of the Christian 
emblem, much less have 
brought about such an 

absolute cultus as that which Le Clerctpi describes. Their tradition ran, Le Clercqu 
relates, that, their ancestors being sorely afflicted with a i>estilence, some of the wisest 
of their old men were overcome by the prospect of the desolation and ruin of their 

IHE li.VV Ul" OASl'l.. 

.i I 




I i 

/•///;• I.OUliR si: /.JirNJ-iVC/u .L\'n TI/H SAlUJuWlV. 









nation ;uul fell into a " slcc]) full of hittcnicss, " in wliicli "a man {'xcccdini^ly hcan- 
tifiil apivarcil to ihcni with a cross in liis liand, who hadr ihcin return honu', make 
crosst.'s lik(! liis, and prcsiMU tlicui to the hi-atls of families, assuring;' tlirm that 
tlicy would undoul)lrdly lind llu'rcin the remedy for all their ills." The peoiile, at a 
i;cMU'ral assend)ly of the nation, retci\cd with honour "he sacred sis^n of the cross thus 
presented them from heaven. '11 ereupon " the mahnly ceased, ami all the afllicted 
who respectfully carrieil the cross were miraculously healed." 

After this, the cross l>ec:\me amoiii.^ these people an object of the hij^hest \eiiera- 
tion, a symbol and talisman employed in i'ver\ tletail of their lives, and buried with 
them at tlu'ir death. The worth)- Recollet found this siuj^ular reverenci- for the 
cross siirxivino- amoni;- them in his da\-, lhou>;h somewhat in decadence, and he 
touchin<4ly narrates the use he. made of it to turn savaj.;e superstition into Christian 
belief. Tin- chapti;r he j^ives to it is one of tin: most interesting in a sinj^iilarl)' in- 
teresting; little book to which .M. l''ancher de .St. Maurice was the tirst amon<^ I'reiich 
Canadian liltcriUciirs to direct attentiiui. Some ol the other .Sc)uri<nu)is traditions re- 
lat(.;d by I'ere Le Clerci|u have a curious ri'si-mblance to Christian belief as to the 
earlv a_i;es t>f the world. Coidi.1 Donnacona's white men clothed in wool, autl the 
"man e.xci'eilinj^K' Ixuiutiful " of tlu; I'oi'te Croix les^cnd, luwe been the Norsemen? 

The Ray of Penouil — the old I'nuich name has been a harbotn- of refut^e ever 
since Carlii;r, after losinsj; an anchor, spent ten days there in July. 15,14. X'essels 
came there from l'"ranc(! (jvery year to lish ; for Champlain was seiuliui; a canoe there 
to learn news of the I)e Caens, who were on their wa\ to his relief, when he heanl 
that they aiul Tadoussac had been captured 1)\- the Kertks. More than one battK' 
has taken i)lace in its wat(^rs. In i()jS, De Rociuemont fought the Kertks till, for 
want of cannon-balls, his sailors used their soundins^-leads ; but the I'rench s(|uadron 
lunl to strike their llaj.;s, and sec; the Jesuit Misssion burnt b\ the victors. In 171 1, 
Admiral lioveiuk'H Walker a,L;ain dt'stroyed the lilth- settlement, ami in .Sepieudier, 
1 75S, the I'aiu^lisn once more repeated its devastation, st'mlin^' a |)art\ across the hills 
to I'erct', where the lishini^-posls were burned and the people m.ule jjrisoners. (ias- 
pcsit! was incluiled iu the j^rants of Nova .Scotia to Sir William .Mexamler by James 
I and Charles 1. Curiousl\- enoui;h, a '■ntiu-y later, iieaidiarnois projiosed to re- 
ni()\(; the Acadians from Nova .Scotia thither. lUit the history oi Cias|)c wouUl make 
a book, and there is one more spot to visit belore the re-enterinij; coast line of the 
St. Lawrence begins to form the W.w des Chaleurs. 

La Rociu^ I'ercee, "the pierced rock," stamls bold and lirm to the end, thouijh 
the cliffs of Mont |oli, on the main-land, and of Houaventure Island, two miles out at 
sea, confirm the Indian tradition, <,nven by Henys, that once there was no break in 
these perpendicular walls of rich-luted conj,domerate, where the reds and browns of 
sandstone, the bright olives and greys of limestone, greens of agate, purples of jasper. 

i ; 



white (jiiartz, ami deep-orange stain of iron ])lend togetlier, and, seen against brilliant 
blue sky and iMiicrald si'a, form a wondrous combination of colour. Hut tlic waves, 
witli unbroken swcc]) from the open Ix-at fiercely on tiiis marvellous rock, and 
have already battered down the tiiree grand a'-ches Denys saw. Seventy years before 
Uenys, Ciianiplain sa\s there was only one arch, which was large (Miough for a sloop 
under full sail to pass through. At present there; is but one ()|)ening, forty or lifty 
feet high. Many remember the mighty crash with which the immense arch at the 
outi'r end of tlie rock fell just b(;fore ilawn one- morning about fort\' years ago, 
leaving" as its monument the great monolith that formed its abutment. Slowly ami 
surely wind and sea are doing their work ; they havi' begun another a])erture, not 
more- than a couple of ft-et in diameter, through wliich the sunbeams Hash as the 
eclipsing wave crests rise; ami fall. On the nortli sidt; is a tiny beach when; you can 
land at low tide on a calm day. It is like a |)rofanation to tread on the piles of 
agate anil jasi)er glistening with water, whose e\-er\- roll losses wy millions of [leli- 
bles for the sun to turn into rarest jt;wels. Myriads of fossils gi\'e to the face of the 
rock, that at a distance looks so hard and weather-worn, tlu- ajjpearance of an 
arabes(pie in richest velvet. In this little co\-e, shut in b\- the clilf from sight of 
evervthing but tin; water and the sk\', with no sound but the cries of the countless 
birds that tenant lh<' diz/y heights, and the music of the surf ;is its thunderous bass 
dies away in rapid fugues to temlerest treble of clattering pebbles and dashing spray, 
W(; might sit ami dream till the great, green rolh-rs, througli which a mysterious light 
gleams on weiril shapes of tr(;es and grottoes, and castles and palai-es, carried us off 
willing visitors to the enchanted land they re\-eal. 

KverywhcTe else the rock rises straight from deep water to a height of thrt-i! 
hundred feet. .\t its western end it is worn to a wedg(? as sharp aTul straight anil 
clear-cut as the prow of an immense iron-clad, which it singularly resembles in outline, 
if one can imagine an iron-clad llftei'U hundred fe-et long and three lumdrixl widi!. Its 
top is C(jvereil with gr.iss, but this is l)arel\' visible, because of the immense llocks of 
birds, winged ainiies ranged in serried order. I'lach tribi' inhabits its own territoi-y : 
the black cormorants ncNcr mingle with the white gulls ; the great gann<-ls and the 
graceful terns keep their own places. If any presumptuous bird wanders into the 
ranks wf another tribe, there is a tremendous screaming and llapping of wings to ilri\e 
;iwa\' the intruder. '1 he\' come and go incessantK', circling high o\er the schools 
of herring, and i)lunging deep to seize their prey; the)' swoop around the cod-fishers 
at anchor far out on the b;mks ; thi'y follow the bo.its in to the beach where tin; jiack- 
ers are at woik : they Ilit like ghosts about tlu' nets when in the siKcry moonlighi 
the fishermen go in ipu^st of bait ; but the\- return .ilwa\s to the one spot allotted to 
them among the densely packed mass of white, that from a distance looks like a bank ol 
snow. During a storm their shrieking is almost unearthly, and can be heard for miles. 



^ . 

/ j5 

i: \vavt:s, 
Dck, ami 
s before 
a sloop 
or fifty 
1 at the 
irs asjjo, 
nvly ami 
:iire, not 
1 as the 
you can 
piles of 
; of peb- 
:e of the 
e of an 
slight of 
-ous bass 
ng spray, 
)iis liyhl 
ed us off 

of three 

iyht and 


■ide. Its 

llocks of 

territory ; 

ami the 

into the 

to ch"i\r 



the pack- 


Hotted to 

I bank ol 

or miles. 

About the be^innino; of this century a fox is saiil to 
have found his \va\' up, beinu;^ surprised on the beach in front 
of the village ami chased across the shallow which at low 
tide conn(!Cts the rock with th(; 'diore. He fountl a \'ulpine 
paradise, and niadt: sad commotion anioni;- the birds, whose 
refuj^e had till then been thought inaccessible. His exploit 
susfgested the possibilitj' of men s^oiuL; also, antl two t'lsher- 
men did climb up at eireat risk. With ropes and ladders 
a regular path was then establislK^tl, ami it 
became tin: custom to rob tlu; nests of their 
\n-g rich e,<,fgs, and to kill the 

■ i-,.-''^,-ai,r^:, -:-,.; 




birds for the sake of the clown. The ascent, always perilous, was forbidden by law 
after a man had been killed, and the birds regained undisputed possession. Owing 
to the fall of huge masses of rock, the summit is now probably inaccessible. 

Perce has been a fishing-station from the earliest times ; fish and fishing are its 
raison d'l'lrc as a town. There; is fish everywhert; on land as well as in the sea. It 
is stored in warehouses, drying on the beach, piletl \\\) in thatched stacks, and brought 
in by the boats, that come and go twice a day, in white-winged fleets, to and from 
the banks away beyond the red cliffs of Honaventure Island, that lies out yonder like 
a huge whale basking in the sun. The very bacon and potatoes are fishy, for the 
same nutriment feeds alike animals and fields. But there is so much of beauty in 
and about Perce, that one can forgive an occasional reminder that there are other 
senses than tiiat of sight. 

" The codfishery throughout the Gulf," says Mr. Pye, in his Gaspd Scenery, " is 
carried on in open boats, two men composing the crew of each. Hut ere the cod can 
be caught a supply of suitable bait must be obtained, — herring, cajjelain, mackerel, 
lance, scpiiil, smelt, or clams, all of which are available when used in their season, 
for e\en cod arc e|)icurc:s. Tlie boats |)roceed to the fishing-ground at sunrise, and 
reiurn wiicn ladcMi, or when their bait is e.xpended. Having reached the shore, the 
freight is laiuk.'tl ami brought to the splitting-table. The first operation is to cut the 
throat, the nex. to take off the head and secure the liver. Then follows the most 
difficult and scicmtific operation, namely, splitting, which consists in removing the back- 
bone. Good splitters are always in good request, and commaiul high wages. From 
the splitting-table the fish is thrown into a box-barrow and carried to the stage, — a 
large building wiiere tiic process of curing commences. The barrow being placed on 
the scales, tiie tish is tium weighed and taken to th(; salter, — another skilled hand, who 
makes a stjuare i)ile, carefully sprinkling salt over each layer as he proceeds. It re- 
mains in bulk some thrc^e or four days, is lluMi washed in large vats, returned to the 
box-barrow, and carried out to the Hakes, where it is carefully spread to dry. 
When moderately dry, it is carefully piled on X.\v [)el)l)le beach in small, round piles 
shaped like corn-stalks. Here it undergoes a specit;s of fermentation, the remaining 
dampness being exuded. This is termed making. When sufficientl)' made, the fish is 
again spread out on a \'\n{i dry day for a few hours, and finally stored in readiness for 
shipment. Three modes of (Migaging fishermen are adopted by the merchants. The 
most common is by tiie draft ; that is, the man [)ays for all he gets and is paid a cer- 
tain prict; per draft for the fish as it comes from the knife, as abo\e described. The 
draft is the (I()ui)l(! quintal of 224 pounds, with 14 pounds extra allowed for sand and 
dirt. One-and-a-half (juintals are supposed to yield (»ne (piintal when dry. The next 
mode of engagement is that of half-lines men. These pay for their provisions, and gel 
half of the fish they catch when cured and ready for market. Men who fish on 



;n by law 
I, Owing 

ng are its 

s sea. It 

id brought 

and from 

■ondcr like 

ly, for the 

beauty in 

are other 

cenery, " is 
le cod can 

-'ir season, 
inrise, and 
shore, the 
to cut the 

the most 
; the back- 
es. From 

stage, — a 
placed on 
hand, who 
ds. It re- 
led to the 
d to dry. 
ound piles 

the fish is 
idiness for 
nts. The 
Daid a cer- 
3ed. The 
• sand and 

The ne.xt 
s, and gel 
o fish on 

wages are generall)- engaged by the master of the boat, wlio, in that case, derives the 
benefit or bears the loss, if any." 

Allusion has already been mad(- to tlie fisheries carried on by tiie I-rencli at a 
very early date. An old manuscript in the Hibliotlieque Royalc at W.-rsailles attributes 
them to a date even earlier than the discoverv of the coast of Labrador by .Sebastian 
Cabot, who. it is stated, found there tiic nauK; of Hacallaos, whicii, in the Hasque 
language, means J/,>///cs, or codfish. In i6iS I)e I'outrincourt aiKises llie forestailincr 
of the English by French settlements, and the erection of two or three forts along the 
coast of .Acadic, to guard the fisheries, which he estimates as being then worth to 
France a million a year in gold. The lislu;ries in the Gulf .md the River .St. Law- 
rence are not included in the privileges granted by the Commissioners to Roberval, de 
Mons and others, but were left free to all, and were carried on in small vimtures, 
apparently. In the charter of the Compagnie des Cents .\ssocies, in 1627, the King 
exi^ressly reserves the cod and whale fisheries, which he wish(>s to be free to all his 
subjects. In the account which lunery de Caen gives of his vo\age to receive 
Quebec back from the KcM-tks, in 1632, he says, after speaking of the whales, of which 
he saw plenty : " They conv; here also to fish for cod. I have seen a great number 
of seals, of which we killed several. White porpoises are fountl in this great river 
named the Sainct Laure-ns, and nowhere else ; the English call them white whales, 
because they are so large in comparison with the porpoises ; tlu;\- go up as far 
as Quebec." 

It was not long before permanent fishing posts were seriously thought of. The 
Commission of Sieur Nicolas Denys, in 1653, grants him the right to form a stationary 
company to fish for "cod, salmon, mackerel, herrings, sardines, sea-cows, seals, and 
other fish," on the contlitions that the liahitans should be allowed to take as many 
shares as they pleased, and that the jx'rsons whom the king wished and intended to fit 
out with vessels might carry on " pcsclic vcrtc ct slr/ir," that is to say, might salt or 
dry their fish as they pleased, "toiif ir/iisy <]H a I'ordindiiw" In 1666 Talon writes to 
the Minister tliat he has commenccul the cod-fishery in the river, and finds that it can 
be carried on abundantly and with benefit. In 1660 the people of Canada were 
accordeil the right to sell fish in I-'rance. on payment of llie entry dues only—four sous 
per cent, of cod caught by lines, and twenty pountis per cent, for spoiled fish. It 
may be noticed here that coal from Canada ~ " charbon de terre" the !■ reach called 
It, in curious contrast to the "sea-coal" of contemporaneous English — was admitted to 
!■ ranee, by the same an-il, on ])ayment of si.\ sous a barrel. In 1671 Talon reports 
that "the stationary fisheries, being n^garded as an assured benefit, the Sieur Denis 
aiul the Sieur Bissot, luxbitaiis of Quebec, have ajiplied to me for grants for fishing for 
lod and .seals and for oils; I have granted them." In the .same year Sieur Patoulet 
received instructions to study, "with care and application," the management of the 


p/c/i'R/-:soi •/■: c .ixada. 


i i 

lishiii;^' Stations that Iia(' done so much for the Kni^lish rolony at Boston, in oixUt to 
take tile l)rsi measures |)ossilile for tliose alioiit to Ix' establislictl arcMiiul IV-rcc. Ii 
1676 a ineiiKiraiuhim on Canada reminds the kin^; not to ncj^lect to secure by c:\ery 
means thi' control of the lisiiei-ies and the market of all the tjriHMi and diied t'lsh used 
in the i^reater part ol iiurope, and an estini.ite is i^iven that liis suhjecis from iiiscay, 
(in\cmie. Ihiilanv, and Norniancl)' alont; loatleil se\cn or eit^lu hundred vessels (!very 
year with from ten to thirlv thousand pounds of luh i;ach. Tlu' Intendant He Meules, 
in i6,Sj, speaking; of what tlie fisheries had done for HosttJU, calls them a I'eru if tliey can 
onl\' !)(• contined to I'lcm h subjects. The suhseipuMit neijlect of the colon\' lost I'rance 
what mii^ht ha\e been the complete control of this threat source of wealth. After the 
Cession of Canada to I'.n^land the merchants of Ouebec under\alued th(,' fisheries, antl 
did not take them u]). But the old aiK cnturous s|)irit of .St. Maio and I'iouen showed 
itsell in the Jerseymen, whose; establishnunts are noA' found all alon^T the Bale des 
Chaleurs and llie (iulf. In 1766 Charles Robin canu;, ami threw enoui^h enerj^y into 
the work to leave his name a lasiinL,^ mcnnory all alonL;' the coast. TIk- i.e Houtil- 
liers, Jaiivrin. bruinu;', 1-e Brun ami others followed. At Paspebiac, I'l rce anil CJrande 
Ri\iere, (.'stablishments were formed. The War of iSi 2 stayed their projj^ress somewhat, 
i)Ut after that settlements were made with r(;iU!W(;d vigour, and the threat fishing firms 
that still e.xist established their ])ower. Irish and Scotch immii^rants spread from ("laspe 
to \ew Richmond, the b'reiich Canadians of the Lower St Lawrence moved tlown 
from one oulporl to another, until a i:ontinuous chain of fishinL,^ stations stretched 
aloiiL,^ the shore. At Anticosti, at the North .Shore, and down the Lal)rad()r, little 
ports were founded where\cr a ri\'er formed a harbour or a ^ood beach for drjiiij^ fish 
was found. The jerseymen wei^e excrxwhere L,''iiidinL,'' and superintendin;^. 

The manaLjjemeni of one ol th(.'S(; u;reat firms is like the conduct of a small army. 
Ev'erythiiiL;' is done: by rule, to which as im|>licit obedience is \ieliled as to the laws ol 
the land. The clerks, in most of the houses, are Jersexiiien, in some no others are 
taken, and they are brought out when nouiil^ boys to sers'e a re,L;"idar .apprenticeship, 
with strict riMiuirenients as to periotlical chaii,^es of station and duties. In sonu; of 
the houses they ai^e not allowed to marr\' at all, or, if marrieil, they are not 
allowed to ha\(; their wives with them, so that nolhiiiij; may interfere with their 
attention to business, or iiuluce them to lea\i,' the ser\ic(! in the hope ol betterins^ 
themselves at their masters' expense. At least that was the somc-what illogical 
reason o;i\en by one of them, who assuretl iIk; writer that he couKl only set; his 
wift; once e\cr\ three \e;irs, when thi' customary loiii^ lea\<! was s^iviMi for the trip 
to Jersey. They live toy;ether in one house, (piile in the style of tlu; t^ood olil da_\s 
of the Kni,dish merchant. luicli of these establishments is com])lete in itself. I'.very- 
thing is done on the premises, and everything, from an anchor to a needU-, as the 
sailors say, can be had in the shop, which forms part of it. The neat white 

I : Ii 

THE I.OWI-R ST. L.lWREXC'n, AND Til F. S.I Cf'EX.n: 


l)iiiIclin_<TS, wiili red door-ways and roofs, trim L^ravcl walks and littU; L;arck'ns, arc a 
cf.nspitiKiiis fcaturf; at (•\('r\- port aloni^- tlic shore, as tlic\- aic licrc at I'crcc'. 

I'rom Mount Stc Annr hcliind tlic town tlirrc is a L,d()rious \ic\v. I he cnc 
ran<.(t;s from tlu' tali [ntixk of I'racadicjjetciu;, just \isil)i(; far up ilu; Halt; dcs C'liaU-urs, 

COI)-l- (SUING, 

nvcM- hill and \'allt;\ all forest-clad, from point to point alnn<;- the rock-hounil toast- 
lint; of tlu! hay, to Cap d'Es|)oir, where the piiantom ship is seen in nights of autumn 
ujale repeating- tlu; drama of " Naitfragc tic T .Ijiglais!' wiien an I'ln^lish friLjate one 
of Hovemlen \Valk(;r's it is supposed — was hurled l)y the hurriiane hi;-;h on the crt'st 
of that frowninij^ cape, which has yvx\ little of L,''ootl hope to sailors, and seems well 
lurr.ed into Cape l)<'spair upon tlu; maps; then round Cape Covi;, aloni;- tlu; winding;, 
liiliy road that skirts the shore. 'riu;n you look <\"i\\\\ into tlu; am|)hitheatre that 
surrounds I'erci', on Mont Joli, with its wooden cross at the luink of the clill, aiul on 
the rock ; then far awa_\' over Iion,i\-enture Island, across the (iulf to Miscou, ho/.e 
of the "terrible monster whom the sa\a<4es call (iouc^ou." whose waist a ship's nia-^ts 
would hardly reach ; who snatched up |)assers-by and put them in his sack to be de- 
voured at leisure;, whose "fearful whistlinjr" had been heard by Sieur Prevert de 
Saint-Malo and reported to Champlain, who repeats thi: story with the naive remark, 



"Voyla cc que j\ii appris dc cc liougou." I'lioii aloii;^ tlu; line of cliffs that reach in 
ascending steps from Moiit Joli to the "Corner of the Heach," where the milk-white 
surf breaks on the santls in the lo\ely I'a)', nami.'d 1)\' the Hretons, from unpictur- 
es([ue codfish, "Julie i/is Molucs," and now Malhaii; ; aloni; the miles of sand-spit thai 
hedjifes in the luiracliois or las^oon of the Malbaie River, to the church and settlement 
beyond. Down into j^ori^cs that converge beneath great walls of briUiaiilcoloured 
rock ; up again to gaze <)\er innumerable hills and dense woods to when; the moun- 
tains rise behiml (ias[)e ; far .iwas' ()\er iIk; shining beach and whiter houses of 
Point St. I'etcr to (iaspe I5ay glistening in the sun ; beyond that again, over the 
dark line of the I'Orillon, to where the loom of Anticosti can just be seen ; out to 
the open gulf, wliirre the sun lights up the cloud-piles with reflections of its setting 
splendour, and the lightning flashes hew rifts through the fog-banks fast rolling in, 
aTul the white sails lly before the coming storm. 








'T^HIS is the: province of ships, if we may trust tlic ilevice on her scutcheon. She 
is also the province of pine-trees, of salmon, of deals, and of hemlock-bark. 
In anticipation, moreover, she is a province of mines, ami would fain supply her sisters 
with iron, ami antimony, and siKer ; she would show them new possibilities in archi- 
tecture with her |)rincel)' red [rranite. By no means poor in natural resources, her 
riches are only to be gathereil by that strenuous (,'ffort which breeds a sturdy and de- 
termined race. And her growth, if sUnv, has been stead)' and sure, made up of 
lasting bone and sinew. 

A glance at the history of New Hrunswick as a separate province will take us 

over no long "Chronicles of wastt;d time"; but, as a part of ancient .\cadie. some of 

♦ Copyiighi, 1S84, by lielden Brothers. All rights reser\ed. 


'; -il 



II ^ 


PlL I LR ESQ Hi c,l.\:i/>.L 


I I 


l'.-\SHA.MA(,)rt)I)l)\ HAY. 

llic most stirriiit,^ cijisodcs of Acadian 
story fi'll within inr lioriicrs, sonic of the 
ciilicst efforts to tr;ins|)I;int tin: lily of I'lancc were 
inaclc upon her soih Miraniiilii l!a\', tiie coast and 
liarlioiirs to tiie north, and Way C'haleurs, chiiin C'arlier foi- their diseoxerer. Coniinjr 
Iroin the ii y walifi ol l^elh'-Isle .Straits, and from tlie forhiddintj sliores of Newfound- 
land, he loimd these coasts, with their lu.xuriant forests, MossomiiiL;' nieailows, and wild 
fruits ript'uin^' in the sunny weather of |ul\'. a \<'ry land of eiuiianlmeiU. To a 
s|)a("ioiis l)a\, ilselt one ma^niticent harhour, its clear, tureen waters from shore to sliore 
un(jl.)slriicted In' r(n:k or sho.d. he i_;a\c the name, " des Chaleurs," luuinj,' come to 
anchor therein on a inirnini; noontides when no lireeze tem|)ered the heat. Hut this 
of C'artier's was only a liyin^^ visit, in 1534; and to the future New lirunswick lie 
^a\'e no furthei- attention. 

I'rom the corner of the proxincc' to tin- (extreme south-west! I'or liere, 

in misery and f; 

l)eL;an the actual settlement of the country. Ile-re Chamiilain is 

witli us. 


cc(im|)an\ ini( 








much mi.xed party ( 

.f ad 

venturers and settlers, on St, John's day, 1604, hv. entered the 


th of 

a Lii-eat river, called 1)\- the natives () 





avmij; re-nameil 


IS water 



r of the da\- of its iliscovcry, the\' continued west to PassamaquocUly Ra\', 

which they found so thick with islands that C'ham|)lain failed to number 




,\7:7/- /iA'r.V\II7(7\ 


anotliui" broad iiln'aiii lay <>|ii'n Ix'forc ' im, up wliiili ilu'v s,iil<il scmimI miles till 
th( V' came to a level, grassy ishuul in mid river; and ihis, siraiii^e to say, llie\ t liosc 
for tlu! site of their >ctt!ement. Hoih river .uid ihey called St. Croix, and lierc 
'.lie little colony estahlished itself. W'ltiioiit lire-woDd oi- water, llie to this da)' 
is as desolate as Dt; .Mollis and his company found it. W'ilh its loose, sandy soil, the 
scant jffass wavinjf in the winds \vhi( h swept its shelierless e.vpanse, it was hardly a 
tcilipliii)4 place to founil a home. lint the explorers (onsidered thai it was eas)' of 
access by water, capable oi delense, and well removeil liom the surrounding.;, 
whose heavy forests win; full of unknown ilanj.;ers. I'he rem. lining months of summer 
were bri^^dit with activity A\)i\ hope. .\ (|uadraiijj;l(; oi wooden buikiinj^s was erecteii, 
witli a chapel, and the (io\einor's residence. In spite of the lateness of the season, 
^raiii and v(\L;<''le'^ were planted ; and a Ljarden was laid out, after llie lashion, f.iiiit- 
ly, of those old gardens in l'raiic<', lor whuh, ii may Ik, the colonists weie now a 
little homesick. Hut in the bleak days of late .iiitumn their situation was dreary 
(•noui,di ; and beiause their crops had failed to ripen, they were com|ielled to live 
iiiainU' on salt meats, a di<'t which speeilil\- affected their he.dth and spirits, .\i last 
winter came, and tlu; snow, and the frt'ezint;' winds ; such cold as in their own land 
lhe\' had never learned to dieam ol. The sleet drove in through the chinks ol their 
ill-iiKule buiklini'S. I'uel harillv to be obtained, and thev shivered ovei' their 


I ... 




i )■ 

; i 



scanty fires, till, in spite; of Champlain's indomitable and never-failing cheerfulness, 
llicir hearts said-; utterly williin tiiem. When disease broke out, scurvy in a terrible 
form, from tlutir unwliolesomc li\ inj;, \.\\c\ fell an easy prey. Out of some eij^dity 
persons, but fort\-four sur\i\-ed, and tiiese liardl\-. W'Iumi tlie first warm ila\s came 
the)' crawled forth in tiie sun like' shadows. .ScarceK' couKI the sick be attended, the 
djinjr ministered to, tiie d(!aii i)uried. In the s])rin!4 'l^'-' 'shmd was abandoned, 
stri|)|)ed of all that could be carried away, tlie fortilicatiijns dismantled ; and the pot)r 
remnant of the c lony lleil over tJK; bay to Port Royal. Now the lis^ht-house keejjer 
is the one man wiio inak(!s St. Croi.v Isiaml his lioine. 

But it is a fair antl weli-fa\ouretl corner of New i!runswick, liiis, where that at- 
tempted settlement m the days Ioul;' a^o came to so disastrous an enil. Not a mile 
from tlu; island now staiuls .St. .Andrews, one- of liie oldest of New I'runswick towns, 
and also one of tiie fairest. Its iiaibour is unsurpassed, but .St. John lias drawn of? 
mucii of tile trade that formerl)' llowed tliroiii^h the .St. Croix mouth, anil much of 
what remained has moved uj) liver to tin; busy little town of St. .Ste])hens. There- 
fore St. Andrews is now more di^Miilied than livc'ly, from a commercial point of \icw, antl 
her clii('f treasiin; lies in tiie l)eaut\- of iier surroundintr scener)-, the purity of her clear, 
green waters, the unfailing coolness of her salt breezes on the clouilless da\s of sum- 
mer, all which attractions c()ml)ined make her a \er\' d.^lightful watering-place. Peace 
is the word that comes to our tiioughts wlien St. Andrews is menti(3nt;d, and our ne.xt 
thought is of sunshine. llow tempting to l)atliers an; the long, warm, tawny beaches, 
sloping down to the crystal lip of tlie tide. P>athing is the right thing to do in .St. 
Andrews, and it is doni' heartily, by ha]i])y parties of young men and maiilens, and 
elderly women and children. iiie waves look refreshingly cool as they come lapping 
up the sands, and the\- do not belie their ap[)earanc(;. They are icy cold in fact, and, 
in our judgment, those choose the better (Uirt who sta\' lounging in the warm grass or 
couched in the sand, watching, willi comfortabh; commiseration. tJU' crowd of gas])ing 
revellers. The other things which one is expected to do, and will do without imich 
persuasion, are to go yachting on the bay and to \isit Chamcook .Mountain. A more 
(juestionable delight is lobster-s|)(;aring, which, however, does exccdlently in combination 
with the yachting. In the cool of the morning, when the tide suits, tlnri; is some 
excitement in being rowed stealthily o\ei' the transparetit water, wliih; each one, sj)ear 
in liaml, peers sharply into the masses of brown weed iliat riih; at anchor on the 
level bottom at a de])tli of some five or six feet. In these bunches of weed lurks 
the bottle-green j)re\ we are in search of, closely resembling his surroundings in 
colour, but betrayed b\- his red points. Not seklom the excitement reaches its 
highest pilch after a few active lobsters have been ca])tured and turned loose in the 
boat, and have set about an investigation of tin; merry fishermen's ankles. I'^ir the 
trip to Mount Chamcook a day is chosen when no fog rests on the bay, as far out as 



rass or 

il miirh 
A iiiort! 
is sonic 
ic, spear 

on Uk' 
cil lurks 

inL;s in 

dies its 

in tiie 

:"or tlie. 
r out as 

tlie eye can see, and when a propitious wind promises to liold tliis enemy aloof. 
After a drive through lovely country comes a not loo arduous climb through deep 
clover and daisied grasses, under the shade of birches, and limes, and beech-trees, and 
white maples ; then a short and siiarp ascent over grey rocks, that keep liberal beds 
of scented fern in every ragged hollow, and we come out on tiie bald, windy summit 
of the mountain. Chamcook looks down upon all the neighbouring hills, which, to say 
the truth, are not very aspiring; and the view is really a magnificent one. Out across 
the water, which is populous with white-.sailed ships, we see the dark island-cluster of 
"The Wolves"; and beyond, if the air is- very clear, we discern a low, blue line, and 
hail it as the Nova .Scotia shore. At our feet, in the noon (|uiet, lies the fair little 
town, wrapped in happy and, perhaps, not impossible dreams of a splendid future, 
which is to come with the building of a railroad from Old Canada to a terminus on 
St. Andrews Harbour. In another direction we follow the St, Croi.N, which widens into 
a suggestion of a lake, and contracts again before it reaches St. Stephens, where its 
waters become accessory to many a frolicsome and profitable evasion of the disagree- 
able myrmidons of the customs. 

When one has drunk deep enough of .St. Andrews restfulness, and turns his face 
and his desires towanls St. John, the most pleasant and least orthodox way of going 
thither is to persuade some tug-boat captain to accept a jiassenger. Thus one cheats 
the railway, wiiich is more safe than swift, or tiie regular steamer, wliicli is tiresomely 
conventional, and (piite without pi:culiarities, agreeable r\- otherwise. lUit before ship- 
|)ing as a tug-passenger, it is well not to omit a yacht-sail to the Islantl of Canipobello, 
wiiich lies far tlown tile bay, near the .American shore anil the town of Lubec. This 
island, some eight miles long, and nowhe-re more than two in breadth, has become a 
popular summer resovt, and the site; of the modern architectural |)omp of tlie suiiiiiier- 
resort hotel. Nevertheless, the island is a delightful spot, and struggles to maintain 
its beauty and simplicity ami wholesomeness of life. It has the attraction of lieing 
an island without the discomfort of inaccessibility. Its ijeaches are supi:rb, its retreats 
are secluded and romantic, its nights and days are temijerate and benign. In the way 
of assertive scenery its "lion" is the bluff called " I'Viar's Head." 

In selecting a tug, or getting a tug to seK'ct us, we were fortunate enough to fmd 
our lot cast with one which called at .St. (i(!orge w\ its v\a)' to .St. John. The nomencla- 
ture of this part of the country, by the way, is rigidly saintly, the causes whereof 
tradition f.iils to state. While the tug was kept in uneasy rej^ression beside the wharf at 
St. George there was time to see tiie jiretty town, which has in part transferred its faith 
from lumber to red granite. A wontlerfully picturescpie nook is this. The Magagua- 
(lavic River (pronounced "Magadavy") falls a hundred feet into the harbour through 
a chasm not thirty feet wide ; on the sides of the gorge are fixed, like eyries, several 
|)owerful saw-mills, from which the lumber is sluiced into the whirling basin below. 


1 1 1 1 ■ 

.;i I 

ii I 





Above tlu; town is a liii^li plain; aiul near at Iiaiui, 
iK-sieil l)(jt\vt'(jn low liills, is Ixautifiit Lake Uto|)ia. 
As we sail into St. John 1 laritoui-, past the foo-ilistolourcel rocks and sonihri; tir- 
clad hcit^lits of I'artridi^ro Ishuul on our left, \vc are struck 1)\ liic aiipcaranci! of a 
hiijrc; white stcamsliii) approachini^' us. '["iierc is no shrcrinn' of the waters at her 
prow, however, no commotion round her sidt's, no xomitini^' of ]iilch\ clouds from her 
odd-iookinjr chimneys ; and on nearer \ iew this turns out no \<)\;ii4inL; Le\ iathan, but 
a guiile unto tlu- wa\s of these, a structure immovably st.-t on the rock foundations of 
the harbour. ()])posit(! the Ileacon, as this l'rotc:an mass is called, stretch loiij;' 
wharxes, crowded with bo.\-cars. and llat-cars, i,a\' with odorous piles of "tlr\\ bright 
deals," noisy with the " \co-heavedio " of the sailors, and llanked with ships of many 
nations, de^rc'cs, and colours. \ cinder are two L;reat iron steamers, with reil, inac- 
cessible, wall-like sides, th'ir port-holes witlu open, and tMiL^ullini.; e-ridless fpuuitities of 
lumber, which is supplied from scows; while the loading', also i^oes on from above, 
and ever and anon a iL,n-eat bundle of deals sways u|) from the wharf, Ikuv^s <ryratin_ti' 
a moment in mid-;iir amonu' tlie spars ami cordajjc, then sinks |-eluctanll\ , with ''roan- 

\\v< and creakmir o 

f tackle, into tl 

le xawnmi. 

of the hold. \\\? s;i 

nl close under 


e of these monsters, and read that slu; is Irom liarcelona. ,\ band ol keen-look 


swarthy fellows, proijably i.ascars, art; strainin!.,^ at the ca|)stan, and the capacious 
vellow funnel, towerini 

•■ lUSt 1)1 

t b 


iind, casts an mexpressibly sultry i^low upon the .iL^roup, 


e\' look so swelt(!rM 

dv hot, that we turn roimd instinctivelv for the f( 


are silvery 


s aiHl clr 

ifts of it, far out on the shiftinir surface and unijovernable tides 

A7-:ir /ih'cxsincK. 


of I'lind)-, hut t()-ila\' ;i lii^lit land-hrcczc liolds it at a distance, and siiows the wliok- city 
pilctl most picturcseiucly before us. I'milt on a steep and rocky peninsula, witii loftier 
ju'ii^iits heliind as a sellin;^, crow nctl with many spires, and opened up Ijy ylimpses of 
wiiie, steep, liusy streets, it comes toj;ctlier with achiiirablc? effect — as tlie artist says, 
"com])oses" c-xcellcntly. St. John contains no wliite buiklings. All is !:;rayst()n(', 
icd-hrick, or hro\vn-i)aintcd wood, this hrown a local and characteristic tint, not in 
an\' wa\' to he departed from. This colotiriuL;'. under a liroad sun and clear sky, is 
rich and solid ; i)ut when the ioi^' rolls in on tlu.- city, and han<;s for da)s toi.[ether, 
tlu; ijloom hecomc's ])i()found. Xor is it m.'ide the- less dismal h)- the ri^currcnce at 
intervals of a low, sepulchral, i)ooniinn' sound, from nowhere in particular, which comes 
stnii^c^linL;- through tin; foL;' as if Irom a (.lamp throat. The inhabitants, however, have 
no j^rud^c a<^ainst their fo^-, which in all probability is respijnsible for the jjeach-bloom 
complexions with which the citv's daui^hters are so daintil)' entlowed. If this \ni the 
case, even we can ff)r!..;ive tlu; loj^' ; nt'vcrtheless such a day as this, when si^dit-seeinjj 
is our object, it is not to be liuiiul)' vahunl. As we stt'.im up the busy harbour the 
scent is very lively. Lar^^e and small craft are evervuhere, at anchor uniler bare 
jioles, llittiiii^ across nur way 
luider white or ocher-colou'red 
canvas, or KiiiL;' three and 
four deep aUjUi; the wiiarves. 
N'.ichts are carccnintj before 
the racinn' breezt'. broad-l^owed 
stub-nosed wood-boats plou;^h 
their wav unbeiulinn'. tireless 
iittie red and while tiii^s rush 
hither and thither, a lui^e 
black scow on each arm, as 
it w(-.-e, and at tlu; head of 
the harbour, where shrill saw- 
niills occupy .iH liie available 


the water ^ edije. 

the loftv short!s curve round 


the I'arleton side, enclos 


the f 

orest of masts and 



lere, too, under tin; 

ins of I'ort 1 lo 

les tne 


vvn.vKi' AT sr. andkevvs 

L'/hrry/n/is at anchor. Since 

tin; inestimable boon of \wx presence has been conferred upon St. John, the citizens 

sleep unharassetl by dis(|uietude. 

Thev rise in the morniim and look out with con- 







/>/C Tl RliSOl '/•: CAX.ID.I. 

fidcnt pride to tlie spot wlicrc oiir youiijj; navy rides at anchor. It is said on jrood 
autliority that St. John ranks liftli or sixth anioni;- llie shi|)-o\vnin<j; cities of tlic world. 
Wide are .St. John's interests, -and tlie (.'/iitryMis is tiieir protector. 

Meanwhile we have made fast at North W'iiarf, tlie slip is before lis crowded with 
coastin<j schooners and wood-boats, ii^j hi!.^h and dr\- on the slopini^ e.xpanse of black 
nud; and above is Kini;' .Strein. I'lv,; brt^idth of this street is niat;niric(;nt ; it 
climbs straisjjht n|) a steep ascent, and is i(M"miriated at tlu! summit by the dark folinore 
of Kinix Scpiare. It is lined on both sides by handsome stone or brick lniildinq;s, all 
of which, by tlu; breadth and inclination of the street, are dis|)laye<l to the l:)est ad- 
vantajjc. .St. John is justly proud of Kin^- .Street. As for tin; slip, at low tide, and 
especially in the foi;' here is a scene iiartlK' to be found elsewhere. The vessels are 
weird and ijhost-like in the mist, their black hulls standing- erect or leanini:j to one 
side on the; liiaden-coloured slime. The ropes ham.; limp and dark, the wet sails are 
droopinj;^ half-unfurled, and there is silence except for the rnshinj^r escapi; of water 
from a drain that empties here. i'rom above come the bustle an.d hum, the noise 
of wheels, and the cries, from the t(!emin>4 thoroui^lifan; which the foLf has veiled 
from our si^ht. 

Ik^fore inxesti^atin-i; the cit\' of tlu; present, let us glance at the cit\'s past. 
.\ histor\- belons^s to the site and neighbourhood of St. John. Rcjvertinij to the 
oM .\cadian annals of a period some twenty-five years after the miserable failure 
at St. Croix, we tliul a secontl settlement attempteil, this tinu' at the numth of the 
St. John. fl(;re the prospect is more che<'rin};-. the brij^htness of longer continu- 
ance. Hut treachery and violence; ilo their work, aiul the L;loom ai^ain falls. 

On tlu; tongue of land jutting out toward Na\y Island, from what is iu)\\ called 
" the ('arl(;ton side," a strong- fort was establishetl b\- the La Toius. This fort com- 
manded the trade of the interior of New I'nunswick, ami of the greater part of 
Maine, and here, in feudal fashion, reigned Charles La Tour ()\er his r(taiiu;rs and 
dependants. There were peace, plenty, and ever-increasing wealth in tlu' w(;ll-built fort. 
On the stretch of flats below, where e\ery sumnu'r may be seen the sanu; thing still, 
at each low-tide long ranges of stake-n(;ts yielded (Ish of man\- kinils in abundance ; 
and the surrounding forests swarmed with game. Hut La Tour's chief gootl fortune 
lay in the possession of a woman, who ai)pears to haxc been in all wa\s the tit wife 
for a man of his stamp. 1 ler ability, no less than his own, contributed to his pros- 
perity ; and losing lu;r, he lost also, for the lime, all his life-long efforts had availed 

to rai li- 





h thi 

VMulictue jealous)- o 

f La I 

ours brotl)er-lieutenant m 

Acadie, I)' .\ulnav Charnisav, that an vm\ canu- to 



iir prospt'cts. 



m Ills 

undisputed authority over half tlu; territory of Acadit;, Charnisa\- had no jo\- 
possessions while his hated rival was in ])ros|)erity near him. Craxing tl 
trade that flowed through the post on the St. John, and conscious of his strength 

U' ricli 



— *^?^-» 



at tlie Court of I'Vance, he 
was soon in open liostilities 
attains! I, a Tonr in Acailie, 
anil intriu;iiini,f ai^ainst liim at 
X'ersailU's. As a result, La 
Tour was charged with treason, 
anil Charnisay was authorized 
to seize and hold him for trial. 
Hut I. a Tour was hehiiul his 
walls, and secure in the justice of ills cause. He mocked at the royal mandates 
and made ready for a struggle. 'I'he city of Rochelle came promptly to his 
assistance, while Charnisay drew reinforcements from Paris. In the spring of 164;, 
Charnisay suddenly, with a large force, blockaded the mouth of thi; .St. John. Sup- 
l)lies were low in the fort, and a ship was daily e.\|)ected from Rochelle. When this 
arrived it was signaled to keep at a safe distance ; and one cloudy night a boat 


:|;^ I 



i ' 

1 . , l";, 


/'JCJi KJ-SOi'/i C.LV.I/Kl. 

slipped silcntK- out of the liarhoiir upon llic cljh-tidc. In\isil)I(' in llic j^loom alonjr 
the Carifton sliori', ami ix'ncatli tlu- roi:l<\- lu'ii^lus of I'artridj^i' Island, it passed under 
the very J^mis of the hloikatlini^ ships, and La Tour and his wife \V(;re oil for Hoston 
in the Roehelle \essel. I'iie next ilevelopinent of the situation was the api)earance of 
La Tour in the harbour, at the head of Wvc. New Lns^land ships; and Charniray was 
dri\en across tiie l)a\' to Port Ro\'al, and sharph' pimished on iiis own ground. Attain 
he essayed the attack, closely inxcsiini^' I'Ort La I'our in the hope of star\inL;' its ile- 
fenders into submission. Hut from two spies, who, in the clisiL^uise ol friars, had 
succeeded in peneiralini^ the fort, onl\- to \>r, unmasked by Laily La four and con- 
temptuously dismissed unpunished, he learned that La Tour was absent, and that the 
post was under command of his wife. I'.xpt'ctini;- an easv and speedy \ ii:tory, he 
straightway onlered an assault, but was met unllinchinL,dy by Laily La 'i'our at the head 
of the (garrison, and oblii(('d to draw off, writhini.^ with shame. iUit La I'our could 
not always be at home to s^uard his own. W'hik' lu; was ;iway on a tradinsr expedi- 
tion his en(,'my returneil, and found the ;^r;u-rison weak. l'"or three tlays his assaults 
were repulsetl, but through the treacher\- of a sentry he at last f.jained an entrance. 
L\en then the I)im\(^ woman did not \ield, but met him so intrepidly at the head of 
hi;r faithful handful that tlu' dastard offered honourable terms of capitidation. She 
accepted them, to sa\(' the lives of her bra\c followers. liut no sooner hatl the 
articles been sii.j'netl, and the garrison laid down their arms, than Charnira\' hant;('d 
evc;r\- man of tnem but oik;, whom he forced to act as (wecutioner of his comrades. 
Anil Lady La Tour he linl to tlu; gallows with a halter round her neck, and com- 
j<(lleil her to witness the execution. lier home di'stro)eil, lu'r husband ruined and in 
exile, and the horribh; fate; of her followers e\er present, in h(;r memory, Lad\' La 
Tour's health '^:wr. wa\', antl she di(;d within a few months. 

After th(;se things, the; fort at tlu; St. John's nuiuth, as well as that which had 
been estai)lislu;d farther up tlu; ri\(;r, on the ("lemsec, passed successively into the 
hands of many masters with tlu; clKuu^eful fortunes of war, but remained a nu-re trad- 
ing-post, and attracted no permanent settlement. .Meanwliile, over other portions of 
the country, but chieily alonn" the north shore, sprang- up n'raduall)' a \er)- mea^ri; 
population of brench and half-breed.s. I'or years after the country had fallen into the 
haiuls of I'^nj^land, no British subject could saft'ly make it his home, by reason ot the 
hostility of the .\cailians and their Indian allies. Not until 1766 was the first linylish 
settlenu'Ut established on the St. John River. This consisted of a lunnbiT of families 
from i\Iassachus(;tts, who built a fort on the nu)uth of the (Ironuicto, about twelve 
miles below the point where now staiuls I'redericton. Six years before this. Mr. Janus 
Simonds had attempted to (;stablisii a fishery on th(; St. John Harbour, but had been 
driven away by tlu; (;nmity of the natives. On the i6th of April, 1764, howev(;r, accom- 
panied by Mv. James White and Captain i^-abmly, with a party of lishernu;n, he landed 

t I 

A7:7/' n/WNSlV/Ck'. 



on tlic site of tlie present cit\' of St. Jolin, wlierc he soon succeeded in developint^j a 
l)r()rital)ie trade. A few small houses were roughly put together among the woods and 
rocks, at the f<iot of what is now I'^ort 1 1 owe Hill. At length broke out the American 
War of Independence!, ami a time of peril and loss ensued for the tiny colony. Hut 
for this came ample compensation at the close of the war, which may well Ik; called 
the mother of New Brunswick. On the iSth of Ma\-, 1783, took place the "Landing 
of the Loyalists," which meant the founding of St. John, anil within a year the sepa- 
ration of New Brunswick from No\'a .Scotia anti its erection into a separate province. 
The landing took in the gray of the morning; there were no signs of life among 
the chill rocks and .sombre firs of the peninsula, save where, at the hack of the har- 
bour, the handful of fishermen's shanties huddled together; and the jjrospect was not 
cheerful. But these exiles were men of fibre, of strength and steadfastness, who had 
so strenuously striven in defence of their cause that when th(? cause was lost they had no 
leniency to expect from the victors. We may think those most truly loyal whose ley- 



ally is ilr\'()t('(l to their nwii country's scr\i(c. hut. ho\v<\i'r tlic olijccl iiia_\ dilTir, the 
sLMitiinciit is always the same fruitful motlicr of luToic attioii, 

"Out from the lovely l.iinl that jj.ivc tlicni hirtli. 

Our (jraniUiius p.isscd, a hravu, iletiTniiiRMl baiiil, 
Driven l)y hard Kate 
As iiU'M well' (IriviMi of ohi, ■ 

Who^f story hath hecii toM 
111 hjl'ty epic strain- 
To plant, with toil and pain, 
L'pon .1 < shore, and ii\ a slraiigt;, wild l.ind, 
A new and glorious State." 

A city rose, hy the swift mat^nc of tMU'r<^\- and effort, ainoiit;" the misty Leaches am! 
liis^Ii. l)akl hills. With just pride .St. John has heeti celehralini.;, with son-;', ami 
pau'eant, and ilhiinination, and free-haiuleil lios[)italit\ , the hundreilth annixcrsary of her 

The nurslinLj of opulent waters, j^uarcK'd sureK from even the cruellest ilrou^hts 1)\- 
the cool veils of the foL;;, .St. John has foimd her eneni\ in tire. ( )n January 14th, 
1837, she suffered from a terrible conlhinration, uliich destroyed oxer a hundred houses 
ami shops, nearly a third of the i)usiness portion of the cit\. Then followed, at inter- 
vals, inan\- more or less disastrous tires, btit inrmitely tlu- most dreadful that which 
took place on Wednesday, |i!ne 20th, 1S77. In this at least a third ot the whole city 
was annihilatt'd. Nine hotirs suftked for the swallowing of si.xteeii hundred and twelve 
huildii\t,fs in the tiery vortex. The city hurst into hla/.e in three separate |».iits at once. 
A strong' wind fanned the llame. The rocks hi'kl and multiplied the furious heat till 
the streets glowed as a furnace, and the most massive structures of granite cnmiblecl to 
powder, meltin,i( away swiftl\- like hoar-frost. The smoke was \dmited up to the tops 
of the steeples, and there, driven on a level hefore the wind in rollim^ siirijes, formed a 
lurid roof which shut in the perishinif city. The ships in the harhour were many ol 
them hiirmid hefore they coidd escape from their moorings. Coals and hot ashes were 
rained upon the villages miles ahout. In I"red(;rictoii, eig]it\-foin- miles distant, the sky 
to the south-cast was like a wall of hot copper until dayhreak. When the tlames died 
out along the water's edge, .ill the city south of King Street had gone down. In a 
dav or two the centres of the streets and tlu' o])en stpiares were cool ; aiul as one 
walked, ankle-deep in the soft, white ashes, at early morning, the scene was one ol 
most weird and desolate grandeur. The sun shone over the dazzling ri|i|)Ies of tin 
hay, ov(;r the siKeretl and souiulless spaces which h,id been streets, and against tin 


clouded blue the thin smoke-wreaths risinsr from the cellars and masses of 



NJiir /iA'l.\\SII7CA: 







— ■ =^ . 

a soft saffron colour. Here ami there stood bleak, tall chimneys, red, and Mack, and 
,i,rray, or thin fraijments of his,di walls, loop-holed and rai^^ed. At inlcrvak the silence 
was broken by the crash of some masonry that had held itself up ihrout^h tlu; stress 
of the trial and now toppled reluctantly to its fall. In the centre of the scpiares, and 
in the open country about the city, were hundreds of tents and sorry cabins, wherein 


ric rcNi-sori-: c.i\.in\. 

rt'ijjfiHHl a sort of sullen timiiilt ; and in spots a lon<lrr excitement, \vitl> piles of bottles 
anil tlasks close in \ie\\, lestilied that sonic treasures liaii lieen reco\('re<i out of tlie 
ruin 1)\ tile endeaxonrof willini:; volunteers. On the site of one isolated liipior stor<-, the 
di'brii of wliiih still i^lowcd most fer\idl\, stood a iiitiable old lij^ure ])okiii>j;, with a 
lon^r-liiindled raUe, anions; the ruins, his c:ycs j^leaniinn with ileli);lu whenescr an un- 
broken l)ottle was resurrected. St. John recei\cil prompt and liberal aiil in her 
calamity, and rose from her fall with an energy and vitalit) that were marvellous. All 
that had been l.iid waste was rebuilt with added splendour, antl the new city will com- 
|tare more iIkui la\()ur,ibly in its architecture with cities many times its si/e. Hut even 
yet, with so much of her capital locked up in costh' blocks, she fitels too \i\id 
reminders of that j^rievously stanj;<'rinL; blow. 

What a|)pears tf) the visitor as onl\' one cit\ really consists of two, connected by 
a populous street, which threads i deep ra\ine, TlK.'se two cities. .St. John and I'ort- 
huiil. contain together tiearl) lifty thousantl bus\' inhabitants. Some ot the stri:ets are 
cut throu<.,di the solid l)<\()nian rock, which towers, in places, far aboxc the neii^hbouriniL;' 
roofs. Here and there one tiiids a street that ma\ claim to be lalled level, but as a 
rule one's whole tinu! in St. John must be spent in .i^oini,'^ up or down hill. It is, 
perhaps, from this that the women of St. John acipiire their elastic ami excjuisitely 
balanced li>,aires. These \aj;aries in the matter of level do not make .St. John particu- 
larly well adapted for street-car traffic, but this disadvanlajjje is counterbalanced by the 
e.xcellence of her citizens' diijestion, due to their abumlant compulsory e.xercise. In 
the remotest corner of Canada a St. John man is promptlv' recotjni/e'd b\- two posses- 
sions which are not supposed to j;o together— a sounil digestion and a pocket cork- 

Runnini^ throui^di the midst of I'ortlanil is a chain of i)ald. round hills, chief of 
which. i'Ori I lowc I [ill. is surmounted by a batter) of heavy guns, commanding the 
harbour. Ihese hills are so naked that onl\ in scatti'red crevices anil dips is there 
soil enough for tile support of the tufted thin liiil-grasses. {•"roni anv one of these 
summits, on a clear night, wiien tlie moon is at tiie full, the view of the city and 
harbour is one of the most beautiful that can be imagined by the poet's brain. From 
the deep valleys, running in three different directions, comes a Hare of li.ght, which 
seems to brood just above the lines of the roofs. (|uivering witli the din and movement 
lieneath, and shrinking from contact vvitli the calm, moonlighted upper air. In shar|i 
contrast is the stillness of the silvered stretches of water beyond, u|)on which lie, black 
as jet, the hulls and heavy spars of the shipjiing, the light tracery of whose rigging is 
absorbed in the shimmering radiance. More to the left, beyond the most tumultuous 
of the busy valleys, that which holds in its deep heart the roaring terminal station of 
the Inter-colonial Railway, rises Jaffrey's Hill, with its steej) lines of lights, leading to 
the highest portion of the city. No glare and bustle here, but this lamps gleam like 







red stars, and tlu; massive walls of the hospital, with two or tlire(! Iiiirh-steepled 
chiirclK.'s, loo,n heavily asraiiist the pale sk\-. touched with whiti' li,L;ht wherever a vane 
or metallir. roof corner catches and throws hack the tloodin<T briijhtness. ^'et farther 
to tlu; left lie tiie unliij^hteil expanses of tlu; marshes, with a far-ofi yleam from 
Couitenay Hay's indolent waters. 

Hardly appreciated by the inhabitants, yet |)erha|)s the chief attractions which .St. 
John has to offer th(; artist, are the cpiaint, ]>ictnresqne, dila|iitlated "l)its" to bi; fountl 
about the back of the harbonr at low tile. Small housijs and sheds of the oddest 
shape are built out from the face of the rocks, su|)port«;d above reach of hisj^h tide l)y 
s^aunt piles, rickety with age and shagij}' with lony, brown sea-weetls. In other places 

: ?1 


/'/CTlRI-SOl/- C.IX.UKl. 

a iiiihf in llic sliorc is seized iijioii, and luiill lull of these tenements on stilts, piled in 
all jiDsitioiis ,ind in .idniiralile disorder, with iclnse tiinlurs al)o\<' and under, and boats, 
and iiarr<ls ; wiili lirown nets drvini; on jioinls ol ro( k. .ind tani olouicd -..ids lla|i|iinL,' 
from pole ,ind roof trei'. Sketi hers' paradises these; ami the hiL;h plailornis for drvinj; 
I'ish, in the ,disence of the li--h, m.ike .i loimeini^r, linuiiinL;, .md ■.k(t(iiint; pl.uc thai 
could not lie impro\ed. I ler<' one is in an anti(|ue world of (piiet and sunsiiine and 
odd ( orners ; the w aim lined w.iter pulses sofilv lietween the piles, \\a\inL; the ticsscs 
of sea-wcecl, ,ind Hashing; its l;.is sparkles nji lietween the .L;apin,i; Imarils of the |>lat- 
form. 1 )o\v II Ironi the (rest o| the rock. I>\' a ilin;;int;' stair\\.i\. comes ,i '.^irl. liare- 
looted ,nid li.ire-he.ideil. '.M'eetln:^;- our admirini^' lo(.l.s with eratilii'd laui^hier. I'.xcn as 
we i^a/e, she vanishes within the door of one ol the e\ ries. to rea|) ,i moment 
later on ihe lool ol .inoihei-, \\her<' she proceeds to han^; some L;arinenis oni lo di'v. 

\\ hen one makes np his mind to loi'sake St. John lor I'redericlon. in the lam^uaec; 
of Mariiiiners the " C'elesti.d " city, he had lieiter l;(> 1'\' lioal. I his is, ol course, the 
lon;_;er way. Init matters thai to the summer tourist!'' Uy rail to l''r<'dericton is 
less si.\i; miles; liy river it is eij^^hty-four .it least. Ihii thi'se <ii;hl\ -four are each 
ami all so fair that one could wish them twice as mail)'. Ihe steamer lakes in lu;r 
passenei'i's at Indianlowii, ahout three miles h-oni St. |ohn and .iliovc the falls. Ihe 
frcijijht is usualK |)Ut ahoard at one of the cit\' wharves, lielow the l.dls. and the boat 
then wails till the tide serves to p.iss this strange ohstruclion. .\i the instillation of 
the man of the |iencil, we classed ourselves as freiL;ht. and emiiaiked .il North Wharf 
at the comlortless hour ol lour, jnst on the e(|M(. ol dawn. We were fain to eo up 
throui^h the l.dls. 1 his lataract is ol interest even to one s.uiated with (.ilaracts. It 
is worth L;i'tti;iL; up at d.ivlireak to l)(e-omi' ac(|u.iin ti'd with, lor it sl.mds almost alone 
ainoni;- walerlalls in Ikmiil;' reversible. .\l one lime it falls in one direction, in a few 
hours it is lallin;.^ in the other dii'ection. N on i^o awav marvelling;. \ on return, of 
course, to seltli' the matter tinallv, and behold, thei'e is not a vesiipe ol a fall, 
\'ou look down Irom the suspension ' mJ. aid instead ol a seeliiiiii.; tumult of mad 
sur^i's assaulting;' the L;r.i , v ir<;e, y()U see a phuid surfaci , decked here 

and theie with t^entb in. ^. This peace is but teinporary ; it passes 

away swiltlv. .\iid i not _;'L' t ,i vessels on their wav up river s(ek to catch 

this happy moment ol mul tide Idle whole volume ol the s^real Si. John River, which 
is nearly 500 miles loni:,^^ and 11 or live in breadth half a iloxen leaLjues above the 
cilv, al this |ioini finds its wav to the sea throuj^di , •eii i.ivine not a couple of stone- 
throws across, s|)anned by .1 suspeiisiondjridi^e. len the ebb-tide has emptied the 
harbour, the accumulated river-w.iters fall thro this ravine as tliroiiL;h a nii,<,dity 
sluices-ate. As the tide leturns the fury of iIk cape is diminished, the river is 
t^rradually checked, till a level is reached on eiti, side of the threat .^ate. and ipiict 
reii_rns while llu: antaj^onists lake a brc^athiiiiL^ space. Mut soon the tremendous I'undv 

N/:U' /iA'('A'MI7('A'. 


tidf overpowers tile river, Ijear^; it down, and roars tr'iimi)hin)f tlirniiijli to hriin the 
upper hasiti. Mefore it c.'iti .iccoiiiplisli iniicli in tliii diiritloii, liowevfT, it-, ntrcal is 
ordered, .iikI tiie ncuxeriii^ river presses lira\ il\ on its I'liis li.ittir is lou^^lit 
twice ever)' day; and the river is so far siiceessfMl that it holds its Ireedom. and cm 
never lie snl)jii),;ated into ,1 lid.d rivii' with drowned shores and hanks o| oo/e, I'he 




SUSl'l'.NSlON-tiKinr.K, ST JOMN, AT I.UVV I lUh.. 

St. John is able to tjnard its narrow pass. Were the s^ate to be thrown wide open, as 
are those of other rivci-s, tjie barbarous hordes of tJie tide would ovt'rvvhelni miles on 
miles of the lowdyini^ centre of New Brunswick. 

.Soon after we embarked th(! boat cast off, to make the jiassas^e of the falls, and then 
waited at Indiantown till nine o'clock for jiassenijers. Excjuisitely fair appeared the sleep- 
iiii; city as wv. drew off from the wharf, and the scene came out broadU' before our eyes, 
llu' day broke in saffron and cool pink behind roof aiul spire, and stee]) streets and 
piled-up walls. Coils of mist ^ot up shi^nishh- as we ploughed through the edilyinij 
waters. As we neared tlu^ suspension-brii|o(; the cliffs towered Hij^her and higher above 
the saw-mills frintjini^r their The mills were wakin^i^ into shrill life as we snamed 




|)ast. In sii^lit of the hridijc we finiiul we had not liit tlio timo quite accurately. We 
were just a little late; the whirlpools were hei^inniiiij to open, and low, white stirpes 


I is i 


i i 

J! J^' 


were leai)iin^ up and siiikini^-. The passai^c w. s still safe, howexcr, and with a mighty 
tremor, and two or three \ iolcnt ]ilunL;cs to left and rii;hl, as tin; undt'r-eurreiits 
wrenched her keel, w<' were l)e\(ind the .nor^e, and were swee|)in<;" round toward Indian- 
town. l'l\cn whili' we held our lircath, howe\ci-. under lh(! hriilge, we noticed that the 
frownin;^ L;ra".(leur of imminent dark walls which closed aliout us was dehled 1)\- the 
ad\i'rtiser's tdlhy hinish and pot. In huu^i' letl(;rs, ochre-coloured, and crutli' whitt', and 
rasping' red. were |>roclaimed the \irtues of half a score of t/ii(u/:tri<s. In whose haiuls 
soever lies the powei" to loriiid such \andalisni, the citizens of St. John shouKl sec to it 
that the power he exerleil. 

As the swings oft from the wiiarf at Indiantown and heads up through 
"the Narrows," wt; are impelled to credit the theory that the i)resent outk't of 
the .St. John is not its ancient pathway \.o tin- sea. The river, it is saiil, had 
foiinerly two mouths, one leading; from drand Iku- through the low laiuls west of 
Carleton the other Irom Kennejjecasis 1)\- the marshes to (.'ourtenay Hay. The present 
channel hears no siL;ns ol erosion. It seems to ha\'e heen opened l)\' a tearinj;' asunder 
of the rock str.ita ; and the same stu|iend()us coiuulsion which raised all the coast west 
from St, John thirty leet ai)o\c its former level, ami at this place clovi; the solid hills 
to their graiiit'" bases, jirobably in its <;arlier stages obliterated the old channels of the 

Nl'-W liKrXSWlCK 




icrc IS 

a tradition ainonij the Indians that the (Ir-'at Spirit (mcc sjrcw an<'r\' 

with till- nii''hlv rixci-. insolent in its slrcU'ri 

1, and shnt llic L;alfs lo ocean ai^anist it. 

variation o 

f the st 

ory IS that a L;reat IxMver a|)|ieai( 


upon the eaiali, and in one 

niiilit Iniilt a ihim aeross the oiith'l, 1 

urniiii' all the inland coiinirs 

ir\' into hike and 


and (h-ov>nin^ llie people. I'.xcn now, when the 
freshets, it finds "the Narrows" ver\ insiiHicieiit as 


rucr IS swollen with the s|ii"inL;' 
an I'.sit, and is tlri\en back upon 


le inter\al(^s. 


I're and there, as we passt'd, Iroin niches lar up in the naked j)reci- 
ici's we notiicd sudden pulls of while smoke, lollowed in a second or two hy a dull hooin. 


1 tiien 1)\ the rattle of falling rock-splinters 

walls dr( 

■w apart helore us, and we steanu'd out from 

he miners were al worl 

.\s t 

U' Lircat 

the X.irrows" into the splendid 


dike e.Vji.msi' ol C'liand Ha\', it 

was hi''h morninL 


le widel\- separate, liri<'ht- 

I ,§ 


boat-races which have time awX as^ain tlriven all St. John mad with excitement. 
Here trained the "Paris Crew," which at the World's l''air at 1 aris lifted St. |ohn into 



I i ii' ii 

the broail blaze of fame as the home of the champion oarsmen of the world. Hither 
came tin; Txne-siders to wrest away their laurels, and here fell dead in the struggle 
their gallant stroke, Renforlh. 

But as we iliscourse of these thinijs to tilt; man of the pencil, revolving at the 
same time many other memories which are the sweeter kept for private delight, 
we lose siglit of the crouching headlands — the vision of the guarding Mounts — and 
l)assing one or two low ishuuls, l)rinuuing with wealth of grass and scented clover, we 
enter on what is called the Reacii, and tiiere is open ahea 1 of us a stretch of 
broad water unswervingly straight for nearly twenty miles. The shores rise from the 
water's edge lofty and thick-wooded, and bright little villages sparkle in all the nooks 
and hollows. What a fresh wini.1 draws down this long funnel, dashing into our faces 
the thin crests of tlie white-caps and the spra\' from our vesst-l's bow, antl compelling 
us to hold fast our hats I ,\ l)oat is seen to put off from the near shore ahead, and 
sc .n there is a hoarse whistle from our steam-pipe ami we slack speed. Merc is a 
"subject," anel lu: of llu; pencil whips out his skt;tch-book, makes one futile effort to 
divide liis attention l)i:lw('en his hat anil his prospective sketch, then snatches off the 
hat ami wilii an air of hemic dcleiinination sits upon it. The approaching boat is 
rowed by a seedy-looking Charon. Its bow is high out of water. In its stern is a 
solitary female, dressed in her best, with many blossoms of di\ers hues in her bonnet 
— muslin blossoms — antl a much-fringed parasol held with dignity between the sun and 
her complexion. .\t her feet is a barrel of corn-meal, freight consigned to the corner 
grocery of sonu; more remote up-river village, in the eyes of which this on the shore 
beside us is almost a metropolis. Our padilles are vigoroush- reversi'd as the boat 
closes under our lofty white side; one of the "hands" grapples her bow with the iron 
beak of a " pike-[)oIe," slie is helil firml\- to our gangway in spitt; of the surge anil 
wash from the paildles, and barrel anil female are Jeftly iransferreil to our tower deck. 
In another moment we are once more throbbing onward, the skiff dancing like an 
insane cork as it ilrifts back in the yeasty tmmdt of our wake. 

,\t the head of the Reach are two or three islands of a pattern not generally 
affected by the islands of the .St. John. They are high, rocky, and mantled in spruce 
and tir, birch and hackmatack. The typical island of the .St. John River is a low, 
luxurious fragment of intervale, edged with thick alder and red willow, with here and 
there a magnificent elm, and here and there a hay-stack. One of these islands which 
we pass has no apparent reason for its existence, save that it serves as a rim for a 
broad and shallow lake, beloved of duck and rail. As we pass what looks like a very long 
island, we intlict upon the artist a reminiscence explaining the name of this curious bit ol 
land structure. Some years ago the writer made the ascent of the .St. John in a birch-bark, 
and, naturally, always hugged the shore to avoid the force of the current. Toward dusk he 
saw before him what seemed the foot of an island. To shoreward the current was delight- 





■■I > 



. '■■; *^ 








fully slack until it disappeared altogether ; but lie paddled 011, lieedh^ss and rejoicing, for 
miles. At last he found himself in a little reeily bay ieadin!^ nowiiither ; anil his chart, 
too late consulted, told him tiiis was " The Mistake." His birch had borne him lovingly 
so far, and now it was his turn to carry his birch. Well weary, with an attentive 
retinue of moscpiitoes, he madi; a painful portage of a miU' or more through the 
twilight, and slept under his canoe by tlie open rivi-r, once more,- content. 

Aljove the Reach the fringe of intervale becomes continuous, and increases in 
width all the way to I'retlericton. Sometimes it is contined to one shore, l>ut it is ever 
present. This soil is tiie wealth of the ri\i:r farmers. Deep, of in(xhauslil)le richness, 
because its renewal of youth is the regular fertilizing spring overllow of the .St. John, 
it bears prodigal crops of grain and grass, and breeds such towering elms to shatle its 
bosom as we iia\e never seen elsewhere. .\11 through this jjark-like country, wherever a 
gentle swell of groum' jiromises an island of refuge in the Hoods, art; scalt(;retl the 
well-contentetl farmsteads — capacious, fair, white dwellings, surrounded 1)\ red and gray 
barns, nestling down among apple-orchartls, and witii the sweeping boughs of elms, 
alive with black-birds, wa\ing over them softl\' all day long. Behind all are the 
rounded sombre hills ; ami from these come brawling (.lown brooks to startle the quiet. 
But touching the valley the\' \ield to the sp(;Il of p(;r\ading peace, ami steal along by 
circuitous courses, deep and still, with lilies on their bosom ami their banks curtained 
with green. 

What shall be said of the fertility of soil which often yields tv,o crops in one 
season — in the spring a crop of fish, a liberal crop ; and later an e<iually bountiful 
gift of grain or roots or hay. In many places the farmer sets his nets, and draws 
them bursting with silvery gaspereaux, where a few w;!eks after he will be ploughing and 
planting, thirsty imder the hot sun, and no droj) of water within sight. 

We i)ass upon our left the litth; shiretown of Queen's County, Gagetown, than 
which is nowhere to bi' found a village more shunbrous : — 

"Oh, so drowsy! In .i da/.c 
Sweatin;;- 'iiiiil llu- ^oldt-n haze, 
With its one while row ol' street 
Carpeted so (jreeii and swei-t. 
And the loinii;;ers sniokinj; still 
Over tj.'ite and window-sill ; 
.\olhinj; I'oniinj,', nothir.^; Koin^ 
Locusts jjratini;. one cock crowing. 
Few things niovinjf np or down. 
All things drowsy — Urowsytown ! " 

Canoeing in the old days, on reaching the neighbourhood of Gagetown, no matter 
what his haste, the traveller wiis apt to push through the lily-pads to shore, rest his 


I !! 






l^ircli on the warm s^^rasscs, and induli^c in liours of lotus-catini^'' amid tlif summer scents 
anil murmurs. On tiic otlier side is tiu' mouth of tlic (icmsec, a deep, slow stream, 
the outlet of Graiul i-ake. The heavy-throatctl ilwcllers in this reij[ion call this stream 
the "Jumsack." iiere was the site of one ol La i Ours trading-posts aiul a strong fort, in 
its remoteness secure from all init the most delerniined onslaughts of the New luis,''- 
landers. Hut sc'veral bitter stru<fjfles raj^ed about it durint; its season of importance; as 
the centre whence were organized and directed the expeditions of the Indians a,nainst 
the I'lnylish settli;ments in Maine, drand Lake is more than thirty mil(;s in length, 
aiul lies in the centre of the New iirunswick coal area. TluM't: are larj^c; deposits of 
fairly ijood coal ai)out its bortlers, and the lake-beaches are interesting- t(j the <;eoloi;ist, 
affording; many evccllijnt specimens of fossil ferns and calamites, to say nothing of 
jasjjcr and carnelian. • 

Beyond (iagetown, earl\' in the afternoon, we enter the Lount\' ol Sunburv', which 
formerly comprised all X(;\v llrunswick, but is now the smallest of the counties, though, 
l)i'rha|)s, the garden of the I'roxinci-. Mauger\illc, which we see trom the wharf 
through a thick curtain of willows, is the oldest I'.nglish settlement on the St. John. 
It was founiled by a number of immigrants from Massachusetts in 1766, who were 
joined a f<'\v years lat(M- l)\- Loyalist refugees. These were men cpiiet but indomitable. 
They suffi'red grimously for tin; lirst fi'w years, and were sexeral times in danger 

ction against the fort on the (jemsec. 


,-hich tl 

le\' perpetually t 

Ircaded, lhe\- 

ilt a fort at the Oromocto mou 



leir settlement, where now their descendants build wootl-boats and river schooners. 


Graduallv tin 


e\' compelled success, and tlunr c 


c:n \w 

these tlays, as a rule, display 

like characteristics. 

We make a long stoi) at th(,' Mauu-erville wharf, takiu"' aboard potatoes, a fe\ 


slu'ei), anil a \'oke ot stuliljoi'n oxen 

for the !•' reiki iclon maiket. The 

shores al)0\e am 

1 1 

clow the whai 

f are edsred with mi'dit 

\' willows. 


ted not for 

effect, Init for the protection allorded i)\- their roots .-iLjainst the c 

eat the soft bank rapidh 


t, which wouli 

.\t points particul;u'l\- exposed there is built a sjiiardintr 

.•all of ced; 

u" piles. 

\cr all this n 

the St. lohn exerts its sovereignty 


most iinqi 



en; llu; 

rinir freshets reiijn supreme 


il for weeks at 

,'i time 

the f, 

u-iiicrs may he lompi^lled to go lroni hoi 

use to barn, from barn to shed 

in row-l)oats or small, IiljIU scows. 

o school 

i-o teachers ;ind i 

hildren, not in 



It 111 skills, lakim. 

nian\- a short cut across the drowned meadows 



the famil\- \ 
limes it is 

ould go to church the boat is brou''ht around to the front door ; some- 

kept t 

led there. 


n'.X the advimturoiis snial 


uiger\illi;ins ex])lori: 




js the extremest recesses 

)f tl 

le back )'ar 


It is not alwavs so 

)ad as this; but sometimes it is worse. 


IS ne 

[irlv four o'clock wi 

when we catch sili'Ii 


n of 


■s of white smoke against a 


N/:ll' nkUNSWICK. 


I)acl<i;r()und of dark, 

purplisli - L;i-ccn iip- 

iiuls, and arii told 

it means " T h e 

) : 



This muniinj; lull of 1 

)iL't.'/cs am 

I peifumc- 

B rim III I 


f iniilsunimer 


Wlien Ijccs, and liirds. aiul I arc jjlail together, 
Breathes of the fuU-lt-aveil season, when soft gloom 


riCTl 'RI'.SOl •/;• C.WAIW. 

Cln'(|iiris iliy slrci'ls. .mil lliy close clins assume 
Kutincl rouf uiul s|)irc the semblance ol ^rcen billows ; 
Yet now thy glory is the yellow willows— 

The yellow willows lull ol iu-cs and liloom. 

Under their mealy blossoms black-birds meet, 
And robins pipe amid the cedars nijjher ; 

Through the still elms I hear the ferry's beat ; 
The swallows chirp abiuil the lowering spire ; 

The whole air pulses with its wei|;ht ol sweet. 
Vet not (jiiite salislicd is my desire. 

Within a year of the lU'valion of New ISrtiiiswitk into a scpafatc IVovincc, the 
Governor, Sir Thomas Caricton, removed the scat of jrovernment to wiiat was then 
Icnown as St. Ann's Point, a s|iacioiis, sweeping ciirxc of intervale jj^roiind, isolated hy 
a line of hit^hlands jtittiiii; upon the ri\-er ahovt? ami below, .\hoiit four miles long 
ami a mile in hreadlli, watered by small brooks, wooded with elms of fairest propor- 
tion, clear of tinderbriish as a well-kept park, and carpeted waist-deep with hixiirioiis 
grasses, it was certainly a ttmipting spot upon which to foiiiul a cit\'. Not for the 
loveliness of the s|)ot, however, was it chosen to hold the capital of the infant Province; 
strategical consitlerations mo\cd the soid of Sir Thomas. Of a peaceful country the very 
peaceful heart, I'Vedericion owed its birth, and for long its existence, to the military 
spirit engendered by the War of Independence. St. John was open to attacks from 
hostile New l'"ngland ; and, moreover, it had speedily become obvious that its spirit 
would be aggressively commercial. It is hard to say which of Lhese was in the eyes 
of Sir Thomas the greater e\il. lb; saw that St. Ann's Point was a fair spot, easy of 
settlement, admirabh- adapted for defence, almost inaccessible by land, and not easily 
accessible by water save for ships of light draught. Against these, also, a few cannon 
on the h( ights below the town, at .Siuiontls' Creek, would be an adetpiate protection. 
From tlu; military point of view, then. Sir ihomas hail every reason to be satisfied with 
Fredericton ; autl not less so from the anti-commercial. 

The little city, that has stood still for years at a population of 6,000, is wealthy 
and looks it, but is troubltHl with an ambition to rival St. |ohn and to become a great 
distributing centre for the agrictilttiral u])-riv(M- counties, ;ind bir the mining and fishing 
North Shore. She has ever been, and is, a centn; of the huiiber trade; but for the 
most part the I.evites of commerce have btit glanced u])on her and gone by on the other 
side. The smoke of factories obstinately reftises to blacken skies so fair as hers; even 
a railroad, when it draws nigh, goes reverentlv and sta\s its coiu'se in the outskirts. 
Since the troops have been withdrawn, she has consoled herself for the commercial 
supremacy of St. John by making secure her political, ecclesiastical, and intellectual 
'irone. She has the deuartmental ; " " ' ' . r 1 



A'/;//' /.'AV.\-.S7/VrA'. 




of wliicli St. 
Jolin iKH loii}4' 
siiic(! strove des- 
|)C'rat('l\' to de- 
|)ri\c her ; Init the 
little city liolds witli 
smiliiiL;' tcTiacity to 
tliose i^ood tiiinQs slie 
liatli, and her liiij 
antai^^onist was worsted. She has also the cathedral -the most perfect s|)ecinieii of 
])iire Gothic architecture in Canada— and a multitude of churches. She has the 
Provincial Universitv. and the l'ro\incial Xornial School. Call her a cathedral city, 
call Ikm- a university town, and her part is well ("illed. Hut should the chancre she 
|)rays for he wrought u|)on hei". should she besjjin to <rrovv, to hustle, to drive 
bargains, her distinctive charms would swiftly disappear. Her hopes, however, are 



nil • 77 liKSOUH C -.ix. l/>. /. 

centred in tlic htiildinj^ of the Miranii(Iii \'allcy Railroad, to run up the fertile and 
populous Nasiiwaak, over lli<' hacklioiic of ihc I'rosincc, and down tlii! soutli-west 
Miramichi, a lonir-settled but lari^clv undeveloped section of ihc (ountry. W'itli this 
road built, and tlu; St. John liridi^ed .it tlie n|)pi r end of the city. Iredericton would 
prohabl)' swiiij.; out of the eddies and find Iwrself in the full tide of .uhanicnient. 
It is possible, at the same time, that the growth would lakr place (hielly in the 
suljurbs of St. Mary's and Cdbson, on the other side of the ri\cr. in winch case the 
aristocratic (piie-t of I'Veilericton proper would not be disturbed. Otherwise we could 
imatjine ont- of her citizens, under the hoped-for new ilispt^nsation, ill at ease in the 
unwonted stir and din, asserting;', in r(?sponse to many con<j;ratulations, that truly the 
chanj^e was sweet, but murmurint^ afterwani with Mr. MattlK!w Arnold- 

" Ah I so the (|uict \v;is, 
So was llir luisli I " 

At present the l)roodiny; peace is seldom ruOled, save when the openini^f of the 
river brings in swarms of well-paiil and \ery thirsty lumbermen from their winter's 
seclusion in the remote; heart of the wootls, or when, on the i:\-enint; of a certain 
Thursday which falls toward the last of June, the city sleips with one eye open, and 
in the small hours starts u[) to Inul that the old university on the hill is in full 
eruption, that the nin'ht is l)ri<;ht with blazing; 'ir-barrels, and musical with ul)i(piilous 
tin horns. I'hen the ground shakes with tin; lliunderous report of a huge rusty 
cannon, which was ])resented to the students some years ago i)\- the spirit of an old 
French Cleneral, whom, trailition sa\s, the\' had rudei\- awakenetl out of his centuries' 
sleep. The students' glee club was wont to meet for practice, on moonlit nights, in a 
secret part of the gro\e where the (jcneral hail been buried. He arose ami bribed 
them with tiie cannon ; and thenceforth the club met no more in that place. 

He of the pencil, witii whom \\v. had much argumenl on the suliject, decided that 
the best view of the city was that from the lower ft:rry landing on the opposite side 
of the river. We ina\- say here tiiat l-retlericton can l)t)ast of thr"e steam ferries — 
upper, middle, and lower- no one of which favours the idea of a l)ridgi:I Let us 
take a canoe from the St. .Ann's Rowing Ciul) boat-house, antl e.xamine this \ iew from 
the other side. We do not see much of the city except its steeples, rising out of 
billows of elm-tops. Heautifully rounded willows line most of the water front ; white 
steamers, red tugs, black wood-boats, and schoo".ers fringe the wharves ; but we 
feel a little disappointed. The Normal School l)uilding, though its back is to us, 
as is the case with most of the buildings we catcii sight of, looks well. But we are 
forcibly attracted by the City Hall, which, with a supremely ridiculous little tower 
stuck upon its rear, to match the big clock-tower upon its front, looks like the back 

NEW nRcxswick: 


\i(!\v of sonic i)r<!histori< mammal wiih a nidimciUary tail, in an attitude of alert 
(•\pc(tani;y. We art- als(. sliauk l)y the ( urions |)r|.|,ci--|M.t wiili uliicli, mistakinj^r it 
(or a .Ionic, the Imililcrs have crowned tli<' reall\ heautilid new Parliament House. 
Tiiis struetun- is of free-slonc and y^\-v\ .^rranite, witli lliitcd, s(|uare pillars up the 
front, and is siniph' and .i^ood in design savin- for the dome. Some of the most 
beautifid elms anil hulleriiuls in thi' cit\' are scattend ilirou-h th<' open (.^rounds which 
snrrounil it. 

lUit lei us take an observ.'itioii from the cupola of the uni\ersit\. It is a hritjht 
afternoon in Septemher. and an earl\ frost has startled out the leaves into their full 
splendour. Hehind rises the remnant of the hill, dark-j,n-een with spruce and luMiilock ; 
directly beneath is the level sw.iid of the terraces, walled off from the ke<ner winds 
by a dense thicket of cedars at the north (Mid. broni the etl-e of the lower terrace 
sweeps away the broad hillside, clotlunl with m.iples all allanu;, birches cloaked in clear 
t,M)ld, oaks with foliai^e a mass of smoulderim.;- purples, beeches of a shininj^r russet 
brown. Stretchiiij^- from the hill-foot, miles to left and rii^iit and straight aheati, lii's 
the riv('r-\alle)', bounded by a rim of purple upl.uuls. As tlu! aftermath is fresh uiion 
the meadows, and the elms have not yet bei^un to turn, this v.ille\- is for the most 
part pale-!.,rreen, sav<' where the river draws ,1 broad ribbon of azure round the t,deam- 
iii^^ city, disappearing; uniler the shoulder of the uplands to our rij^lit, or when- a 
S(|uar(! of rich saffron colour tells of the yet unliai\('st(;d i^rain. Some threi! miles in 
our front a spire pierces the L(re(-n, and its whiteness is so pure as to be almost 
da/zlini.;. That is (iibson's costly ami beautiful, thouirli IJorid little church. 

Clos<' at hand thi! white arches of a bridge denote the mouth of the Naslnvaak 
Kiver. oi)posite Sherman's wharf. Tlu^re is the birth-place of the history of this spot. 
I'o that low point from b(;hind which rolls out the Nashwaak, Villebon, true hero and 
header of men. in i6c)2 betook himself from the Gemsec, to be still further secure 
from invasion, and to be nearer his Melicite allies. Here he built ;i l,ir"e and well- 
stockaileil fort, which in the autumn of 1696 was attacked bv the \ew luvrlanders 
untler Colonel Hawthorne and old Henj.imin Church. X'illebon, bein^.^ forewarned, was 
forearmed. That redoubtable ecclesiastic, I'"ather Simon, brought thirtv-six of his 
Mcdoctcc warriors to swell tlu' j^rarrison, antl all was enthusiasm within the fort. The 
Xew iMii^landers landed with three cannon near the south shore of the stream, on a 
point now much frequented by the school-boys of Fredericton in the cherry season. 
Truly it is a charminj^ spot, and its cherries are marvellously great and sweet and 
abundant. I5ut the New l^nglamlers found little pleasure therein. The tire from the 
fort by day dismounted one of their guns and suffered them not to work the others 
with any degree of comfort, while by night a plentiful hail of grape upon all such 
watch-fires us they lighted drove them to sleep un warmed and wet, whence came in 
the morning much rheumatism and complaining. The undertaking became unpopuk 




ill llic invaders' i-.iin|i, aiul iiiul<r iomi- nf ilic nest nielli ihry forsook it ami llrd, In 
the anliinin of i')()S tlw Liarrison was rcinoxcil to I'drl l.aloiir, ulii(li had Ixtii rclniilt 
at llu- nioulii of tlu! Si. loiin. awA after Xillclioiis dcaili in ijoo the Nasliwaak fort was 
demolislicd. Xotliiiii^ now remains to remind as of those excitinj.^ thoii<;h nmoniforl- 
alile times savt: some irreen moiin<is uh<re om e stood \ illeiion's ramparts, or a lirw 
nist-caten cannon lialU wiiii ii \.\\i- farmer j^aliters in with his potato-'. ro|i. 

To (iraiid I'alls, iju miles aliosc {•redericton, one m.iy j^o by rail; or he may 
continue \i\ iioat to \\ ikuKick k, and Ironi that point t.ike ii|i his land-tra\('l. I he 
chief attractions of the ri\(r vojai^e between licderieton and \\ Oodstock, a distance 
of si\t\ miles, are to he found in the li(;auty of the I'okiok halls which are passed 
en yoi(!i\ and in the oddity ol th<- steamer, which is of the p.ittein called a " wheel- 
harrow-lioat." This craft has heanl ol the feats ol wisiern vessels of her class, and 
claims to make occasional o\cil,ind \(i\ai;es altei' hea\y rains. 

WOodstock. a pictures(pie litili' town amoni; hills and i.;ro\cs and W(ll-tilled sleep 
fields, is a ilan^erous ri\al to I'redericton for lh<- up-ri\er tr.ide, on aicount of her 
position and the eiieri^y and enterprise of h(!r citizens. 'I'hrice has she heen .almost 
destroyeil hy lire, yt't she rises (piiikl\ from her ashes cheerlul and lius\ as (;\<'r. She 
is very hopelnl and self-reliant, has saw-mills, \\\\t\ ii-on-mines, and so nearly a|)pi'oaclu's 
the dijjjnit)' of a ( ity as to possess a suhnrh, lalled " I lardscral)l)le. " 

.•\l)o\c Woodstock the chara<'ter of the river shores chanj^cs. I he skiiliu'^' inter- 
vales ilisappear, and the banks are lofty, hold, and dixcisilied. The sketih which oui- 
ijraphite-wieldinL; (omi.ide made .it Xewhiii-y junction, a few milis up fioni Wood- 
stock, while we w.iili'd lor the tr.iin to lal^e us to l'ol>i(|iie and (irand halls, i-^ 
characteristic ol the up-ri\cr scenery in its moi-e temperate moods. The New I5rnns- 
wick Railroad tra\i'rses ilu' lieiL^hts, crossing wild and profound r,i\ines on hridi^cs ol 
spidery Iniild ; attain it rushes out upon a feiaile rollinj^' champ, iiL;n lau,L;hini^' with 
prosperity; and anon ii carries us hack into the lM-e-ra\aL;cd wildernesses. Hut every- 
where we see that the soil is stroni^, and the country of sustaining a threat 



At the littl 

e \illa''e o 

f .\ndo\er. some twent\-f( 

)ur miles l)eloW 

C.r.ind 1" 

Is, we 

resolved to ascend the Ixsiuliful Tohiipu' River, partiv for the sal.e ol its seer 'rv. 1 


more, it must he confessed, for \.\v sake of its ti-oul-lishi 

We had little dinicultv 

in securint^ three trusty Melicites, with their still more trusty canoes — a canoe and an 
Indian for each of our party. I'he inhahiianls of this 'l"ohi(|ue village are m.ik 




iiroirress m civiliz.ition. 


ev are mtelle'ent anc 

I rel 

igious. own manv horsi's 


d cattle, do some trood farmin<i. and show no si'ms of novertv 


leir villatre is 

fairly clean, their houses .arc; well built and cared for. S 

ewuv'-ni.'ichuK's prove 


even hither had the persuasive tr:i\' 

ellnvj- airen 

"•(■nt found his w; 


eside one door stood 

a handsome l)ahy carriage, with .i black-eyed, Yi.'i\ little Melicite crowing proudK 

Ilcil. I n 
II rchuill 
fort was 
1)1- a few 

lie may 
<l. llic 

■(• passi'tl 

" wlu'cl- 
hiss, ami 

Icil steep 
il of luT 
n almost 
vcr. She 

int^ iiitcr- 
.vliich our 
•alls, is 
w Hniiis- 
ridi^cs oi 
in;4 with 
111 cvciy- 
; a L;rtat 

1-ails, we 
I- T)-, l)i:l 
• anil an 
c makint; 
ny horses 
villa.c^e is 
rove that 
oor stood 
J proiidl) 

.\7:7/' //A7'A'.S//7(/v-. 



tliereiii ; and wc found in the liiief's totlat^c a l;ooi1 i:al)init orL;an, i)esiile \\lii( h were 
some piles of sheel-nuisii; and a \iolin. Some of these Indians win lor themscKt-s 
IriMich wi\cs from amoii;^' the liabitaiits of Madawaska county. Une of onr i^iiides, by 
name I'faiik Solas, spoke iuii^lish fairly well, I'reneh ix'tler, Miiinac thoioui^hl)-, and 
liis iiati\c Melicile. lie could also e.v//c I'lniLilish intelliL;il>ly. His tompanions, Tom 
and Steve, had not attained to (|uite so wide and \aried a cullnre, but the\' were 
i|uick-wilteil and receptive ; while Ste\-e was almost an encyclop;eilia of us<'fnl knoul- 
'diL^c, and his knowleil^e he was wont to imi)art with a laconic terseness whicii an 
inc\clop;tdist miiijht have i-nvied. 

It was late in the afternoon when at last we found ourseKes afloat upon the 
^^reen waters of the 'robicjue, which lay in rich contrast with the amber current of 






the St. John. Wl- leaned hack luxuriously upon hemlock hranches heaped in the how 
ot each canoe, whiU; our Melicites, erect in tlie st<'rn, propelled us against the swift tiile 
with 1 MiL^, surginjj^ thrusts of tiicir wiiiti; spruce poles. In half an hour we reached 
" The Narrows," where the straitened ri\er hisses alonij for nearly a niik' through a 
deep gorge uiar\cllousl\' tortuous. It struck us as a miniature of the sulilinie carton 
through which the river .St John thunders and smokes away from its mighty plunge 
at Granil I'alls. It took us two hours to struggle u|) through these narrows. The 
glij;tening giiM'U and white waters curled nialiciousK' as the\' split antl sheered past our 
obstinate bows. The while ])oles trembled and dickered untler llu; strain, and great 
beads of sweat rf)llc;d down the guides' ilark faces. ilere and there we clung a few 
nioments with our hands to some proj(;cting cornice of i^ock, and snatclu;cl a breathing 
space. Only once ditl we tmd a side eddv large enougn lo hokl our ciinoes for a little 
while oiit ol the grasp ot the current. .\bo\'e our heads towereil the ragged and over- 
hanging cliffs, unscalable, with an occasional dwarf cellar swinging out Imm precarious 
foothold in souk; high crevice. The sombre surface of the shale through wliicli this 
chasm has been cleft is traversed by irregular se-ams of white limestone, forming a deli- 
cate tracery in strong contrast with tlu; rest of the scene. /\bo\e tiie Narrows I'le river 
widens abru[)tly, the current becomes almost placid, and the shores turn pas'o'al. We 
camped here for the night, and pitched oiir tent on a tiny piece of clean sw.'.rd, half 
surroundt^d by a \-erii,d)le forest of tall ferns. No such ferns as these for luxuriance 
are to be found ('Isewhere in Canada. We cut them by the armful for our beds, and 
our dreams that night were per\aded by their fragrance. 

Allowing for such exceptions as shall he.(;after be noted, the banks of tlu: Tobique 
are a mixture of dee[) intervale and fertile upland, all admirably adapted to the sup- 
port of a farming poji' lation. Wherever the shores are low the natural growth 
consists of elm and water-ash anil balsamic poplar, rising from a (piiet sea of grasses 
and Haunting weeds. In such regions the wild iris is everywhere in possession along 
the water's brim, holding pui|)le revel with the mullituile of azure aiul golden dragon- 
Hies; and e\-(;r\w'h(re, also, tlu;, green batiners of the fern. But where the low, 
round hills ilraw close lo the w;iter the diores displa) the warm olive tints of tu- 
thickets, mingled with the i)al(; colour of birches and the glaucous hues of hackmatack. 
For many miles of its ioiunc the ri\<r runs through red sandstones, very warm am! 
\ivid in tone. We passed lotig ratiges of batik so steep that most of the soil hail 
slipped away, ami the glowing red surface netted over with a deep-green tangle of 
vines, accentuated lu-re and there with a group of cedars. The sphMidoitr of smli 
colouritig under full sunlight, with the rosy rellections from the bottom of the shallow 
river seeming \.^> set th(; v(;ry air allush. wt: can t'md tio wortls to jiaint. ,\t the Red 
Rapids the ri\-er chaf(,;s down ov(!r a loni,^ incline of this sandstotu; ; ami here a ^e\^ 
effect is produceil by the chill white of the waves which leaj) up agaitist the great rei 



;he bow 
vift tide 
rough a 
I! carton 
s. The 
past our 
lul i^reat 
v^r a few 
r a little 
uul over- 
.liich this 
TO- a deli- 
i'r! river 
-al. We 
,vard, half 
l)e(ls, and 

; Tobique 
) the su',)- 
f grasses 
)n along 
n vlragon- 
llie low, 
nls of tlr- 
warm am', 
soil hati 
tangle ol 
of such 
(■ sliallow 
the Red 
ere a nc\v 
great red 

boulders in the channel. These rapids are three-quarters of a mile in length, anu to 
spare our ilevoted Melicites wt; disembarked and luaile a detoiu- on foot. We stopped 
awhile on the way to cast a lly in a tempting lakelet, and on reaching the head of 
tli(- rapid found owk Indians complacently awaiting us. 

This obstruction passed, we crept on indolently. Under the measured, slow thrusts 
of the pole, liie canoe kept climbing forward against the current with a gentle, pulsing 
motion. Though at this season the larger trout had retreateil to the upper waters, or 
were gathered at the mouths of brooks, )et all about us swarmed the small fish, '-ager 
and hungry. Dropping our Hies lazily to either luuul, we landed all we needed to 
kee|) our frying-pan supplied. Soon growing too sybaritic ft)r such exertion, \\e .izcd 
with idle approval upon the little villages, snug, solitar)- farmsteatls, and cpiaint, 
deserted mills that from time to time imfokleii to our view. Dut for the most jiarl 
we were out of sight and lu-aring of civilization. Once we passed a raft laden with 
hendock bark, stranded in the shallows antl forsaken till a more convenient season 
shouKl arrive. \'o\aging on thus carelesslj-, we luul nothing to make w complain 
save an occasional light shower, or sonu? over-fer\ency in the sunshint.'. When 
encamped, however, came the mosquitoes ami other e(piall\' tierce ilenizens of the wild, 
desperately athirst for our hhiotl. Our artist went to the lire, hung uj) his w^t socks 
to dry upon the " cheep-lah-(iuah-gan," and proceetled to anoint himself ( opiously with 

We ha\e mentioned the " cheeji-lah-cpudi-gan." High indeed is the importance of 
this article in a camper's eyes. .\s soon as a landing is made one sillies into the 
woods to cut a " cheep-lah (piah-gan." H)' this the pot ,ind the kettle: are enabled to 
perform their duties, u|)on this are hung the jjurty's damp garments, on tliis depends 
half the pictures(|ueness of the camj). It is simply a har^i-wood pole forke'd at one 
end, the other end jjointed and driven into the ground .it a low angle. It is fortified 
in this jiosition with .1 fe-w stones, and the lire is huill themmder. 

On our third day from .\ndo\er we reached the " Plaster Cliffs," whose beauty 
more than surpassed oiu- expectations. The river at this point is nairow. One shore 
is low, semi-tro|)i(Ml in the luxuri.mce of its \eget;ition ; while on the other h.ind rises 
from the water's i'i.\)S,^\ the broken front of the cliffs. The strat.i are tvisled intricately, 
and the whole rock-face is a lovely blending of [)ale grays, pur|)lei', reils, browns, and 
white. The rock crumbles easily, and settlers come from luiles about and it awa\' 
by cart-loads as a top-dn.'ssing for their grass-lands. To the c:xquisile coloiu' of the rock 
itself wrs added here and there a mass of the most \i\ id green and violet, where 
some broail patches of vetch clung against tlu: steep surface. Here antl there, also, 
was a drapery of pale lycopodiums, a thick fringe of pendulous blue-bells, or a silvery 
\eil of the wild \arrow. 

At the luouth of the Gukjuac stream we first obtained such fishing as we de- 

1 "I 

t ! ' 

I 'I 

--2 I'JC I'LKI-.SOLI-: C. IX. !/>.{. 

sired. Hut slill licttiT was ilic sport wliicli Is hroiiL^iit to niiiKi 1>\- tlie rccollcrtion of 
'• ISIiK- Mountain." .All alon;_; under the lish-lencc of slakes and hrush-wood eMendini^ 
to niid-streain, what .warms of trout lay in anihush, and how huii,!.^rily llu-y rose to 

the lly : S|ilendid fel- 
lows, too. and full of 
|)la)\ .As foi- the moun- 
tain, a i;'eolo:^ital report 
_^,. which is at hand, assures 

us that its h(iL;lu is two 
thousand one hundr'-d 
feet, anil thai its summits 
;ir(? \isii<(i li\ tcrridc 

The next day H.ild 
Mountain came in \iew, 
a round, naked p<'ak 
thrust up from ihc liosom 
of an impassable ctilar- 
swam|). L'pon the soli- 
tar\ arm of a dead, 
L;ray pine-tree on the shoi'e |»er(hed a whitedieaded eai^le, which thrust (ui; its neck 
with a i^csture of anxious incpiiiA, and \-el|)<'d at us as we ]i;issed. Soon we 
reached the I'Oi^ks, wlu,-i-e the tishiuL; siir|)assed itself. \\ C remained a da\, and the 
store of trout which rewardeil us the Indians salted down in litlh- ciMtes ol liirchd)aik 
for the homeward ti'ip. 

.\t the lorks the rij^hl hr.uich. oi' roliicpie proper. iIowIul;' from the south, is 
joined l(\- the M.imo/ekel from ihi' east, and the Nictor. or i.ilth' rolii(pie. from the 
north. rp this sll'eam. the wildest, !_;rai)dest, aiicl •. i^l heautilul fif the three, we 
pushed to its soni'ce in l.ilile |olii(p:e Lake. 'I his lake is the mo'-i somliic of iidand 
waters. Its depth is mystei-iousl\ ^reat, so that, ihouL^n |)ure as ci-ystal, it looks Mack 
t'\cn close to shoi'e. I he hills stand all ahout il, and Xictor Mountain dominates it. 
The winds seemed ne\cr to descend to ihe le\cl of its hosom, ,ind the woods that 
frin!_;ed il were silent. We saw no liircls hei'e hut ,a hittern. plainK out of her recknn- 
iuL^', and a w hile-headeil ( aL;le which stooil i^niard o\cr the scene. \\"e explored, 
sketched. Iish.ed ; and. move:! liy a spii'il of detiance, we took a swim in the ic\ 
waters, and sIuk ked the ancient foi'esls with I'ollickini^' sonns. Hut soon the weir.i 
solemniiv of the spot overmastered us. We hecame Ljra\e. Then we iniMud and llec' 
l)ack. rile journex down was \er\' swiftl\- accomplished. 'Ihe distance of ,1 l;nndrei' 
and Olid miles was cuveri'd in a day and a half. The Indjans sat and iiaddleil j^cntK 

NEW liRU\'SWlCK. 773 

.111(1 tin; shores slipppcl by like visions half noted in a dream. The sun shone; hotly, 
hut \vt; were well |)rotert<'d from his beams ; - tJK; niannei' of it may be seen in the 
picture which stands in contrast with tliat entitled '' I'olinL,^ l'|)." When wi; came to 
the Red Rapids we cast asiih; our canopies, and s(;ize(l our i)adilles. Tiiri-c was a brief 
season of wild excitement, whih; the canoes leaped down ihroui^li the mad, while 
chutes, man\' a time just .n'razin;^' through ihi; perilous jaws of rock which thronged the 
channel. A loni^^er ;ind se\(;r(;r test of our Indians' skill awaited us .at the .\arrows, 
which we raceil through durini,^ a sudden storm, with li^htninn ^leamiiiL; across the 
s^ori^e, and the roar of the water minified with thunder in oui" ears. That escnini; we 
b.ide our L;uides a temporary farewell, and took train for drand balls. 

Canada is the lancl of cataracts, and so many ha\e been depiited in these ])ages 
alrca..\' that the reader's ears ma)' be wearied with the sound ol many waters, 
\'et to pass hastily by the Cirand balls would be nearly as irrevei'ent as to ignore 
Xiai^ara. It is no rash enthusiasm to speak thus. Incomparably less in maenilude 
than XiaL^ara the jiropor- 
tions and surroundings 
of th(; Cirand b'alls are 
suth that they jjrodiice 
a similar oxcrwhelminL^ 
effect. A ri\er nearly a 
(juarter of a mile in w idth 
narrows to three hun- 
di-ed fc't't, and takes a 
perpendicular plunt^'e of 
eii^hty feet into a chasm, 
besitle the ^loom ami 
ra^im^r of w hich the .i.jor<fe 
at NiaL;ara seems jo\'ous. 
The \illaL;(' of drand 
balls is an irri'Ljular scat- 
lerini^ of white c()ttaL^es 
upon the summit oi a 
hi;4h plateau. brom vwA 
to (;rid down the centre 
runs a stre<'t ambitiously 
i.imed Hroadw.iy. In 

truth, it is broad enough to be mistaken for a me.adow. 0\(M- it, e\-en in the hottest 
d.i\s, there is a racim; of cool br<'e/es. The citizens may be studied to best 
idvanta'ic in the ne'ijhbourhood of the little Post Ot'tke or in the shallow of the hiisj'e 


vNUMON-Nl IS Il^• TOI-'i Ml M.U r. 



\ I 

wliitc pillars which ; dnrn the front of the hotel. 'Ihosc pillars are Dorii: in their 
massi\c' sini|)licit\' ; and the whole structnre caust-s one to fancy tiiat a (ireek temple 
has captured a modern while washed liarn antl has proudly stuck it on behind. In 
spite of the paucit) of citi/ens, the streets ha\e an air of lile, the jiii^s heiui; numerous 
and always engaged in some work of e.\ca\ation, while the geese are as clamorous as 

It was a perfect night when we arnvt'il. The summer moon was at the fidl, low- 
down in the skw so wc went straightway out upon the suspension-iiridge which spans 
the gorge; a few stone-throws below the falls. The falls are nowhere \isible till you 
meet them face to face, but their tremendous trampling had Idled our ears e\-er since 
leaving tlu' hotel. I'rom the centre of the bridge, which tr;'mbleil in the thunder and 
was drenched continually with spray-di'itt, we looked straight into the face of the cata- 
ract, through the \agueness of the moonlight and the mist. ( )n tlie one side leaned 
o\t!r the great c; ags, black as ebony, with their serrated cr"st of lir-tops etching the 
broad moon, which had not yf;t risen cpiite clear of them. On the other hand the 
higher portions of the rock, being wet, shone like siKi'r in the light. To the while 
chaos benealh us no moon-ra\' tillereil down, and wc could mark there nothing deiiuitc-. 
As we watchei.1 the cilaracl in silence tlu; moon rosi; higher, and siuldenU' athwart 

the swaying cinnains ol 
the mist came out the 
wi'ird o|ialescent arch 
of a liMiar rainbow, 
which kept dissoKing 
and rebuililing b(;fore 
our e_\es. Not till it 
hail meltc;d linally diil 
we go back to the hotel. 
We took ila\s to e-.x- 
amine the falls ami 
ex|jlore the grim won- 
ders of the gorge. Th.e 
longer we sta\ed the 
stronger grew the sjiell 
of the place. .\t tlu 
base of the cataract i-^ 
thrust up a cone of rock 




\' or lift\' ieel 

in height, which the foam alternately buries and lea-"- b;;,e. b'rom tlu' foot of tin 
descent the river does not, as at ^iiagara, y/ca' away. 

!t tloes i-.ol e\en rush 

or t 


v/^jf nR[\\\sjr/cA: 


issou ine 

run won- 

awav, l)iit it is hflclu'd and volleyed off with an cxnlosivc force so terrific that masses 

)f water, ions-wei'>'lu, ar(^ hurled lioilin'r into th 

e air, wneix: 


hurst asunder \-eh( 



le to the heart, dreat wa\'es 1( 


c cliasin. 

nakeil roc 

At ti 


ines llle ri\( 

cap unexpectedh' f;ir \\\> against the wails ol 
r heaps itsell up on one side. L;i\in^ a hrief glimpse: of 

lown to tile \vx\ 

lied of tlie ei'-iantic trousjh. 


is un''()\'ernal)le luirstine; o 

tile waters coniiiiiu's through almost the whole extent of tlu: 


siile ra\ me close 

lieside the fall, a sort of \-ast 

weclLje-snapecl nuiie. is pil 

full of hiindrciN 



;s, jainnied inextrical)i\- (hirin 

tin- .Spriii'' freshets. At half-freshet, wl 

UMi tile cone IS 



en, we lia\c seen niii 



then I)(; shot their full 



11. .S 

oinetiines a loij- is raised 

y |iine tnnl)crs luii^e over the iirinl-;, \anisii instantly, 
n\\ into the air, pe-rhaps fifty yarils away from the 
half its length ahove th(! surface and held then- in 

slran<><' fashion, so that it sjdes otf down the t( 

)rrent on its end. spinnin 


e a top, 


rouj^hout the t;oroc occur se\-eral minor falls, wliiih disappear when the river 

IS liijj^Ii. l-xcept durniy 

freshest, most of i 

le ijortie IS accessible to 

<1 clinihers 

At one point an elalioratc; stair\va\' has been built to the water's ed^e. Here, in 

ilie opposite 


iM'c IS a r(;cess wliicli is occupied 

the Coif. 


Phis is a whirl|iooI about one hundred feet across, kept constantly full of logs, 

iuoci-;s, and 



10 w.iter IS in\isii)ie uik 

ler its burden, which sweeps aroiiiu 

1 its 

circle unceasinjrly, ever striviiiL^ to escajx' at the outlet and e\-er inexorably sucked 
liack. VVliere the tluor of the goryc is exposed the strata arc all uj)oii edge, crushed 


ric iLRiisoii-: C.I. Y.I/). I. 

tojjctlici" ill coils ,'111(1 folds. I Icrc iirc tile "Wells," as they arc jiistlj' caiU'ii, ilccp cir- 
cular pits, l)(>ic(l clean into the lie;irt oi the lieil-rock. Ilere also is the ca\'e, wh.ich 
is like the open jaws of some I itaiiic crocodile, threaleninL; to crash toLjcther nioiiientU. 
lOwanl till' exit li'oni the i^ori^e, which, hy the \\a\, is ahoiit a mile in extent, the iliffs 
airaiii withdraw a little sp.uc to m,d<e room lor I'ails ilrooU liasin, a still Mack pool 
sujiposed unlathomalile, contrasiinL; its sullen surface with the white wrath of the 
torr<'nl wliiih mars on the other side ol a low shoulder of rock. I'roni this 
|iool towers, unhroken, |)erpendicular, and smooth as i^lass, a precipice two hundred 
feet in heii.;ht. I'owartl om: side oi this vast wall, where it bcLjins to break, I'ails 
Brook spreads itsell in a nt)iseless network oi siKer, 

•' And, UUk' a tiow iiw.irtl smokf, 
Aloiifj llif clirt lo r.ill, aiul |),uihc, .iinl l.ill iloili beum." 

It was here, if tratlition lieth not, that tin; Indians nseil to hurl down their captives 
taken in war. 

As mii;lu be expected, drapd iails has been the scene of many an awlul trai^cely. 
Ihe lu'st brid;.^c o\er the i^ori^^e lell with several teams upon it. Lunibermen — 
" stream-ilrivers " have been sucked tluwn, anci, i-auL;ht prol).d)ly in the ilreadlnl whirl oi 
the Coffee Mill, never the smallest trace of them has been seen thereaftei\ One: tra;;ic 

story is a st(U"y also 
of woman's heroism. 
In the days wlu'U 
the Mt'liiites were a 
great nation their im- 
placable tineil.ies were 
the Mohawks. A 
Moiiawk war pariv 
launched its canoes 
upon tlu' !u iul-waters 
of the St. John, in- 
tendinsf b)' this new 
routi! to surprise the 
chief village of the' 
Mclicites, at Au ]iak. 
Before re.ichini;- tin 
l-'alls they capturt-il ,i 
small |i;irt\ oi -Melic:il(>s, all of whom they put to death sa\e one \oun<4 scniavv, who 
was kept to be tiieir guide through llie strange waters. As the) tlrifted silently down 


N/-:ir /;a'( .vsii 7c /\. 


|()lin, ill- 
ill is new 
-piisc tin- 
of till- 
An pak. 
irni_i^ till 
a])tui'cil a 
uaw. wild 
itl\- down 

by nlLjIit slic was |)iit in the foremost canoe, and ordered to take them to a safe 
kuulinL,' in the Tpper iiasin, • 

wheniM! they wonld, next da\', 
make a porlaj;!! around the 
cataract. She steered tiu'in 
straij^ht for the xortex. When 
the\- started up from their 
half-slumher, with tile hideous 
menace of that thunder in 
tluir ears, it was too late. A 
few niomeiits (d ai^oniziiiL;' 
effort with their useless pad- 
dles, then the\ and their ca|)- 
ti\(: were swe|)l into the .Ljulf. 
Never did another Mohawk 
invasion ve.x the Meliciles ; 
hut the latter have not |)re- 
servetl the name of the ^irl 
who sa\C(l them. 

hroiii ( "irand i'alis 1)\- ii-ain 
to the mouth of ("irand Riser ; 
and hence, with our guides 
anil canoes, summoneil ivvm 
AndoviM" to meet us, we set out 
lor the R<'sti;4()uch<' and North 
Shore. I'olinL^' mi ( irand Riv- 
er, it appeared i.uiu: after the 

rt)l)i(|ue. into (irand River flows the \\'aaL,^■ulsis, a meae;r(', dirty stream. L;r(iwn thick 
with alilers, tlir()U!.;li which we pu'^hed our wa\' with ililhcultN'. Thence we made a 

SlKU'l'INIi OK HAKKlNci .\ I'Kl.K loR roKCIII.S. 

rta''e to the head 

the W 

uiLian, a 

ti'il)Utar\ ol the Resliijout 

We W 

ere now 

n tl 

le olhei' side ol the watersllei 

ai>otit to commit ourselves 

to tl 

le streams o 


lainous lor their salmon and trout. 


la^an is, if j 

l)OSsii)le, a nun'i' lU 

ti'stahh; little st 


than the W 


c.inoes ha'! to he jiushed and di"ai;L;ed 

iliroii''h the dense ■jrowtli occiiiinuil:' the 

n\'t!r s 


bed, and the shores were almo^,t impenetralile with slirul 

seen was a Ijear, wliuh e\inceil no regard 

The only picturesipie 
for his .estlu;tic importance, hut made 
all haste to \anish from the laiKisL.U)e, Ikit the mosquitoes surpassed themselves in 
their efforts to entertain us iitl\'. At last we rounded a fair wooded point, and slipped 
Hit, in ecstasy upon the paie-jjrecMi w aters of the Restigouehe, " the Five-fingered 



: i 





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N/-:u /{A'r.vsii7CA: 



River," ;is its ii;imc is s.iid to sii^Miify. W'liat a cnntrast to the \\'aa'_,^^Il ! As we headed 
down llie lurid ciiireiU llic si<y now seemed to i^row i)lue and the liree/e lo solten. A 
\vo()d-du( k wini^ed past, its i^ori^rcons plunia;,;!' l; 1 o w i n i^- in tlie sun. llie nios(|uii()es and 
tlu' i^iiats \ anished, and in liieir place ( anu- exi|nisitc pale-lilue i)nlterllies, delic ale ,is ijie 
petals ol ll.iN lilossonis, ii()verinL,r idioiit onr heads, or idii^htini; oil prow .uid L;nn',\ale, 1 hen 
Ironi a dead In-aneh projeeiiiiL; oxer the water a L;i'eal kini^lisher launched hiinsell, r.nd 
darted away down stream with mockiiiL; laui^hler. .\nd throUL^h the whole down iiip 
we ne\er l.ickeil the conipani.inship oi a kin^;llslier. 1 hei'c wei'e MuejaNs, loo, ,ind 
sandpipers, .iikI Canadadiii-ds whistlinLj- tar ,ind near; and ^.omeiimes the hei'mit-tliiaish 
soimdet! his mellow pipe ,is wi; p.issed a secluded thicket. I he lorests were e\(r\- 
wherc luxuriant; the wate|-s populous with lish as the air with liii'ds and iuitterllies. 
\\'(j cist our mimic llies till we erew tii'ed of it, and fed upon the fat of the land. 
.MtoL^clher, the kesli;^()uche woii oiu' \v\'\ lieartN' approhaiiou, though :n the uppei' 
portion it is not of such dixci'silied lie.iuly as the 'I"oliii|ue. Ilowevei-, in the posessioil 
of a mii^hty Iriliutai'v, one of the "li\c rm^'ers," the title thei-eol the " (Juah- i.ah-W ah- 
Am-nuahl );i\ ic," it easily distances tin 1 ()l>i(|ue. Luckily, the hunlierm.m has lieen 
here, and has al)l)re\'ialed the name to " I om Ked^^'w ick." 

Here, lish-w.uilens lieinu,^ scarce, in the interests ol art and sci<'nce we look upon 
oiirseKcs lh(! ionise of |)oaclK,'rs, and went spe.iriiiL; salmon i)y torchlight. 

Where the pa|)er-liirch L;r('w laree and ilean npcni the rixci" shoi-e, we called a halt. 
Rolls ol bark about three teet in lenL;th were slrippid from the lari;er trees, in the 
manner shown in the sketch. With a dozen of sm h rolls we were (ontent, ami pro- 
ceeiletl lo om' torchinakinL;'. .\ strip of i)ark eiL^ht or ten inches in width w,is lolded 
once down the middle. l''i\e such folded pieces laced tiL;iitl\' toL;(ther with tonL;h anil 
l)lial)le straps ol the inner hai'k of a xouui,;' cedar constituleil (Uie torch, lapalile ol 
hiu'iiinu;' lor about lilleen minutes. With a couple of do/en toi-ches we were lull)' 
C(iiiip[)ed, as oid\' one canoe was to enL;aL;i' in the lorbidden spiu't, 1 he iiiL^lu was 

windless, accordiuL; to ilesire, but a laint mist coiled ia/il_\ on the p 

.uid surlace ol the 

■I'he h. 

our I. lie. and a L;ibl)ous, wen-ii, |iale moon |ieei-e(l thidi 

V'\\ ll 


and plai c 

elms and poplars on the lower bank. 1 he torch, thriisl into a clelt stic 

erect in iIk' bow of the c:anoe, llared redK', and cast off a thick \i)lume ol Itn-id smoke 


which slreametl out hehmcl us as noiselessly wc sli|)i)e( 


iroic'li the wale 

In the 

how, spear in hand, stood our chief L;uide, nis dark face ele.imin!^ tieix'eh' in the sharp- 

ut lii'hts ,111 


1(1 shallows, while his keen ua/e searclied 

the n\ cr-liottom. 


11 one sl(l< 

loDiiU'd a rock\- bank, which seemed about to top])le over upon us i hroui^h the lithil 
'dare and the dislortiii''- smoke, the trunks of solitarv pine trees and ol ancicnl 

lurches that had 
>'iirantic stalure. 

alien in'one uiion the luin 

k look on strange meiiacin.^' slLijies 



e ( in"' stumps and 

half-charred branches leered impishlv 

through the darkness of the underbrush, and a pair ot owls llapped lo and fro, hoolint 




ricriREsoLi-: c.i.v.i/>.i. 

disnialK'. All ,il (UUc the spiac, hclil pniscd jiisi ( Icir u( tlic walir. darlcd downward 
like liL;lunin;4. I>ul it was witlidiaun (■m|>ty, and llir Indian j^iiinli'd witli disi^nsl. 
I li' li ad missed his niari< im account ol thi' diccix ini:^^ veil ol foi^-. .\i;ain the lircatldcss 
silence, the slealtiu' searcliin:; ; and ai^ain the li^htnini; dart ol llie t\\o-|ironL;ed spear. 
I'his time a liuiji' sucker was lirouijht up, killed with a Mow on the head, and 

tlirposiied ill the c.llloe, its llesh liei 

11'' held m honoui' l)\' our ''uules. 

M, aft 


nearly an hour ol driliini^ and w.iichinL;, the lun^^e of the spear was followed iiy a 
mii,duv lashiui^' ol the watei'. and the silver helly oi a spli'udid salmon Hashed heloi'e 
our eves. The steel jiron:.; o| the spear was throut^h his hack; th<' cruel ,L;i'ip of the 
ashen harlis was lixed aliout his sides, and his wrilhinL;s made our li^jht cralt rock, till 
till' exultant Indi.m ,L;ave him his (piietus. ( )n thi' way l-ack to camp a whitdisli also 
fell to the well-uielded Spear. 

le mvstenous scenes vve h.ul helie 

the intense hut still excitement, and tin 

invitiiiL;' lu'e which wt; wi're surprised to lind .-^ h > w' i n i;- helore our tent, thou^^h our 
ahsence had Listed lull two hours, had warned oil sleep elfectuallv. we ileaped our 


nikets u| 

ion liemloci 

lioii''hs. outside the tent-door, and l.iv with our feet to tl 

liri'. smokiuL;, and repeating' in low voices certain uncannv legends ol these shores. 


Illy a Ioul;', tremulous, exceedm^- sorroulin cry c.ime lloatniL;' in upon our ear- 

Iroin vaL;iitsl distances. We spraiiL; to our leet. W ild and unearlhlv it 

d. di.'.l 

aw, IV, rose a''ain more and more ( 

listincl ; and it seemed as if we heard in it 

I . % 

note ol slraiiL;'!' Iau''hler. Shudderiii<', we turned to our Indians, and saw them sittiiii 

.attentive, awed, luit not alraid. In answer t 

o our mule in(|uir\' 

the clii('f ijiiide imil- 


Llole .Scaiirii's himtinsj-dosjs ! Hi'' stori'i liiuiediv, nu'hhel" lie said t 


wouhl not come near iis. 


leii" liowl vveri' o 

Iteii heard at iiii'ht time in these resjions. 

where ihev ran''eu i 

11 search of their master, hut no man of t 

lose now livihij' had ever 

seen them. 

Nor could he tell us w 

manner ol lieast tliev vv 

ere. l)Ul. with that 

voice still in our i^ars, we straiLihtwav iiictiiied them 

lidiii''- under aiul pai-tni''- the 

thickets in the desolate, hroad. moondii^hted spaces ol tlu; wilderness. Then, as 

the cry was not rep 
failles of him. 

)eat<'d. we (|uesti(.ned ol this C lote ScauiM), ami were told (luaint 

was a wise, povverlu,. and lienevolenl hei'o, holdni'' men and beast 

I h 



1 liirds and lishes under his kindlv svva\', and tliev all si 

)oke one lanL;ua''( 

In hi 

time tile moon had lieeii 

it bet 

a dreadliil beast, 'jreater tli.aii a mount.iin. and fierce ; biii 

Clott; Scaurp struck it betvveitii the eves vvitl the iialm 

of his hand, and it shrank ti 

the size \\i'. 

s<;e it now. rile stories of his disa|ipearaiu(; differed widely ; bin the 


certain was that he vanished, a 

lid ea.rtli had siiui 

■come a sorrv pku 

One Ic'cnd of h 

IS ''oiiiij' reai 

Is with the wild, impr(;ssive beauty of Celtic tradition. h 


the Melicile " i' 

issiiil;' o 

f .\rtliiir 

"After many years the ways of beasts ;iiid men !i^r(!\v bad. and Clote Scaurp talke 
to them, till at last he was ain'rv. and verv sorrv ; and he could endure them n 

x/-:ir /;at.vmi7c /\: 


cil spi-ar, 
(■;iil, and 
ast. after 
nil hy a 
(•(1 Ix'forc 
ip <lf llic 
rock, till 
efish also 

, and llv 
oiii^h our 
(■aped our 
ct to the 
s<' siiorcs. 
our cars 
.■ilcd, died 
ird in it a 
(in sitting 
;uide niut- 
saiil tlic\ 
sc regions, 
iiad i-\(T 
with that 
irlini; th( 
Then, a> 
old (juaiiu 
ind beasts 
e. In hl> 
lei'ce ; hut 
shrank ti' 
ut tin; oil' 
orry |)lace. 
ilition. I' 

iiirp talked 
; them U" 

loiiLicr. And he came down to the shores of ilie j.rcat lake, and he made a .^reat 
feasi, all the lieasis came 10 ii, hut thr men came not to the least, lor ihe\ h.ul 
hecdine allou;ethi'r had, and (dole Sciiirp t.dked to ih'' hcci-, \cr\ he,nil\. ,\nd 
when the was over he ^roi into his canoe, .iiul his uncle, ihe ( dcit riirlle, with 

■^a^ift0I^Ski\- ■■" ' *5K^f«t 

St'EAUlM; >AI..\UlN liV .SK.lll ON 1111, I- 1 .:. I U ., a i 1 1 1;, 

him, and went awa\' oxer the i^ri'at lake toward the setiinn sun ; .ind all the Ix'asts 
stood l)\ the water, ;ind lnoked after them until they 'ould >ee ihem no moie. ,\nd 
Clote Sc.iurp san;^-. and the dreat Turtle, as the\- went away; and the heasts stood 
listening to them till they could hear them no more. Then a L;reat sihiue fell upon 
them all, and a very stranL;e thiiiL;' came [n pass, and the heasts, who until now had 
spoken one lonmie, were no more ahle to underslaiul each other. .\iid tlux tied ap.irl. 
each his own was, and ne\ci' a^ain have lln'y met toi^<'ther in council. And C loi(- 
Scaurp's hunliiv^-<lot,rs l;'(> up and down the world in search of him, and ini'ii hear thein 
howlinL^ after him in the ni;4ht." 

The delicioiisness of that salmon soothed our uneasy conscience. I ln' |-emainder 
of tlu! \-o\-aL;(' down, though luxurious, was uneventful. W'e |)assed tlx' i'etapedia, a 
trilnitary from the north which forms the houmlary helween \ew Iliiniswick and 
< hiuljcc ; then the Upsalnuitch, from the south; and at last, havim; iiilered a 

I I 











•50 1™^^ iini^R 

Iff '^ i^ 

! ^ IIIM 



II ii 1 fi 



u 1 

















WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
















countr_v of ij;raii(l hills and wiiulir;^^ valleys fa." willidrawn, we reached the mouth of 
the swift Metapedia, niijh to where the Restigoiichi? meets the sea. 

The jiiiu-lioii of tile Meta|)etlia wiih the Resli^ouclie lal<es jjlace in a \asl park- 
like an.pliithealre. set with majriiificent orroves and doited thick with chimps of tiger- 

ox TIIK HAY CM AI.r.l'KS. 

lily. Steep mountains li<in tiie \allev in on e\ery hand. sa\(: where, throut;h a clift 
to the north side, the .Melapedia enters, and where, \^\ a |iass through which the 
settinL;' sun looks down the valley, tlu; keslii^ouche rolls (alml\ in. .Seen Irom the 
hill summits the two streams ap|)ear to shun mcctiiiL;'. ThcN wind, ami doidjle, ami 
recoil, till the \;de is emhroideicd in e\ery part with siniums hands oi azure. I'rom 
the naked lop of " .Si;;^;u' i.oal" we saw not this lo\(d\' \ale alone, hut lieyontl its 
eastern pathway th<' wati-rs of l^ay Chaleurs, golden in the late afterncum. \\ " saw, too. 
the peaks of ".Sciuaw's Cap" and " Sl.ite Mount.ain." near at hand; anil more I'eniote 
the deep blue mountains of (iaspe, and the further purple shores. .At our feet lay 
the village of Cam|)l)ellto\\ n. its white cottaqcs shining; as clear as marble in the 
tran.sparent atmosphere, and ,ill iIk- western windows keenK' ablaze. ( )n the side next 
the villai.'-e the " .Sui^^.ir l.o.if" is wholly inaccessible. .\s we rushed off by the Inter- 
colonial for ("hatham. its forbiildin;^ front took lou'^' to sink from view. 

Iht; liille town of Mathiirst is beautifidl\- sltuatid at the luvid of a sjjacious kind- 
locked harbour. It is built upon both sides of an ample shallow estuar)-. across which 
runs a broad road built on piles. I'"r(un this point ve visited l!ie lobster-canning 
establishments on the coast, and the falls of the Nepisiguil, twent\ miles above the 

Kiiir jiRcxsir/cK. 


riv(M''s iiioiitli. As for 
tlic l<)!)stcr-cannii\!L:^, tlic 
l)roc(.'sscs arc iiitfrest- 
ing, l)Ut till' siiriDuiul- 
in<r oil ours arc not sa- 
\'our\'. Ilii' lol)stci's 

were for tin; most ]>art 
small, such callow \ oim^;- 
sters as the rishcnhcii 

\voui(.i once ha\c scorncil. At tlic present rale of dcsti-uction, the iiulustrv nuist very 
soon perish, and our delicate lohstcr hi'conie extinct as tlic dodo. Hut the 
other lion of tlic |ilace. llie XepisiL^uit I'alls. ijaxc us uniniliL;aled satisfaction. The 
ri\er plunges down one hundretl ,inil loriy fi'ct. 1)\' four mii^htv iea|)s, into a cafion 
chiselled out of the solid i^raiiitt'. The liasin at tin; foot is \isited hy salmon, who 
here tal<e i^rave counsel to;^-ether conccM-nini^- this liar ai;ainst their further jjroijress up 
the river. Much consideration has thus far availed them naui^ht, and no salmon 
knows the lons^ed-for upper waters. In the neighbourhood of Hathurst, however, lob- 
sters and waterfalls are not the sole attractions. There are the "Elm- Tree" and the 
"Nigadoo" silver mines. Since silver ore, very rich and workable, was discovered in 



the county, tlie ])lace has Inien in periodical peril from tlie mining fever. Fortunately, 
ail the UuhIs wlicre silver was found have been safely jjathered in by the capitalist ; 
but e\ery citizen wiio takes a walk in the country of a Sunday afternoon has become 
an amateur [)rospector, and dreams and possibilities are boundless. 

l'"rom Hathurst to Xewcastl(^ on tiie Miramichi, the run is tlirou^h a barren and 
monotonous countr\-. The Miramiclii is the j^reat rival of the St. John. About it 
clin_<r roirantic and stirrinij; memories of old Acadian days. Here attemjjts at settle- 
ment were; (.-arly and obstinate, but the sava_t(es were fierce and the l'"r(Mic]i met with 
terrible revers(!s. A mile above Newcastle is the junction of th^ northwest branch 
with the southwest, or main Miramichi. Massive railway bridges span the twin streams 
at this point; and immediately below is Beaubair's Island, now uninhabited, but once 
the site of a llourishintr little colony, with a chapel, and a stronj^ battery commandinjj 
the sweep of river below. Of this colony the Governor was Mons. Pierre Heaubair. 
In 1757 a pestilence visited tiie settlement, and swept it out of existence. Tlie few 
survivors llcil to the Restijrouche, to St. John's Islantl^now Prince Eilward Island— 
and to Memramcook, on the Petitcodiac River, where their descc;ndants now swarm. 
This at Heaubair's Island, however, was not the first settlement on the Miramichi. 
As earl}' as 1672 a number of families from St. Malo emigrated hither, and established 
themselves near the ri\c;r's mouth on the shores of Bay du Vin, or, as the first name 
hath it, Baie des X'ents. 

Soon after tlie obliteration of Beaubair's village came emigrants from P'ngland 
and Srotlantl. The first British settler was William Davidson, who landed on the 
Miramichi in 1764, and found the Micmacs, a vigorous and warlike nation, numbering 
about 6,000, in undisijuted possession. They were friendly, however; and Mr. L)a\id- 
son, joineil soon afterwards by a Mr. Cort, from Aberdeen, soon developed a most 
profitaiile tratic in salmon, exporting y(;arly some 1,800 tierces. But when the American 
Revolution broke out, here, as at the mouth of the St. John, came trouble. The 
Micmacs took sides with the Revolutionists, burned and pillaged several houses and 
stores, tiien summoned a grand council at Bartibogue Island, where they resolved 
upon the death of every British settler. During the session of the council an English 
slii|) appearecl, sailing under y\merican colours. The Indians detected the stratagem, 
attacked the \essel, and almost succeeded in capturing her. Once again were tie 
Indians on the eve of massacring the colonists, but they were prevented by the 
coming of a priest of great inlliujnce among them, a certain M. Cassanette. 

At the wharves of Newcastle, which is a i^rettily situated town of perhaps 3,000 
inhabitants, the largest ocean ships can lie in safety. Here, in the season, the 
screaming of the saw mills never stops. The mills fringe the river. Opposite is the 
^'illage of Nelson, with more saw mills, and more ships. Three miles below Newcastle 
is Douglastown, with saw mills and ships. Two miles further, on the opposite 



shore, is the town of Cliatliam. the commercial centre of the Miramichi district, half 
hitlden by a forest ol masts ; and, perhaps it is not nccessarv to say, here also are 
saw-mills. The river, at this point, more; than iwc'nty miles from tiie Ljulf, is nearly a 
mile wide, and in depth less like a river tiian an arm of tiie sea. The ships are at 
the wharves in places twelve tleej). I'liey are anchored in the channel. They are 
everywhere, and from all lands. And hither ind ihiilicr amon:.,^ tliem rush the tuc^s, 

Chatham, thouj^h its population does not exceed 5,000, extend:, a mile or more 
alon^ the river's bank, and, from the water, creates an impression which a close 
acquaintance will not quite i)ear out. The town piles up picturescpiely behind the 
spars and cordage ; some white steeples give emphasis to llie jjicture ; and the highest 
hill, to the rear, is crowned with the bald but impressive masses of the convent. 
Bishop's house, hospital, and R. C. schools. Tiie streets are narrow ami ill-cared for 
and the houses not, as a rule, in any way attractive. Hut a change may come with 
the building of the Miramichi Valley Railroad, which will lend to break the supremacy 
of the lumber kings, widen the range of trade, and, aljove all, give direct access to 
the American markets, without transhipment at St. John, for the vast (piantities of 
fresh fish which are annually exported during the winter. Tiiis exportation of fish 
packed in ice is a growing industry. I'"resh Miramichi smelts are to be met with even 
in the markets of Denver. 

From Newcastle a hasty trip up the Northwest Branch took us into the heart of 
the salmon country, amid stern))- beautifid scenes. The ri\er breaks over numerous 
low, shelving falls, below which halt the salmon on their wn\' up stream. On this trip 
trout were ignored. In one fani'nis pool, wi.h a "Jock .SctJlt " lly, which tock when 
all others failed, we killed two s|)lendid salmon. .Some three weeks aft'r our visit to 
this pool, a veteran salmon-fisher of this Province, killed here, with a medium trout rod, 
a twenty-eight pound fish ! 

Returning to Newcastle, we took stage for I'retlericton, with the oliject of travers- 
ing the line of the proposed \'alley Railway. The post-road leads up the Southwest 
Branch, through good farming lai.ds, past bright little villages, with their inevitable 
saw-mills, and over beautiful tributar\' streams. Sometimes we saw the rive; . for miles 
01 its course, black with a million feet of logs, packed in booms, extending along both 
shores, leaving only a narrow way Ijetween for the |)assage of tugs and small sailing 
craft. At Boiestown, a cpiaint, still village of one street, the loveliest of nooks for 
lotus-eating, we stayed the night. A portion of Boiestown bridge, picturesque but not 
in good repair, is .shown in the sketch. The river, up which we look, is divided and 
choked with wooded, grassy islets innumerable, whereon the tiger-lilies lord it superbly 
over the meeker weeds. At Boiestown the road forsakes the Miramichi, and strikes 
across an elevated table-land for the head of the Nashwaak valley. Here, more plainly 
than ever, we trace the ravages of the awful conflagration which in 1S25 swept over 




the wliole Miramichi basin, from the 
Nashwaak to the Bartibogue, and 
■ north to the Tobiqiie hii^hlands, an 

area of six tliousand scjnare miles. 
In tlie settled districts the villasj^es are all relniilt, and the hand of man has covered 
u|) the scars. Hut on this hiyh divide tin; forests are nothins^ hut dead, ohastl\-, 
fire-hardened, indestructible trunks ; anil the baked soil even now bears little bnt a 
stunted growth of whortle-berries and shrubs and moss. 

Striking the; rim of the \alley through which the Nashwaak winds to the St. John, 
we look down upon a deep-set landscape, which breaks out into laughter with harvests. 
The fields are so fertih;, the farms so sweetly n(;stle amid their orchards, the river 
ripples so contentedly under its fringes of mountain ash and sumach, the elins so 
emulate ]ialm lri:t;s, tin; islands are set so jewel-like, aiul all the tlistances so melt in 
purple and gold, that our road not seldom Knaves the lowland and goes by the 
summits of tlu; hills, apparently for no other purpose than to h;t the fairness of the 
valley well be seen. At the; junction of the Tay with the Nashwaak, that low cottage, 
prominent in our sketch, is " Hell's," the resort of merry men who drive out hither 
from Fredericton, fifteen miles distant, to cast the mimic lly upon the Pay. The 
distance from Chatham to b'redericton by this road is just one hundred miles. We 
grudged not our two tlays' dri\e, Init, from a business and point of \ie\v, 
the railroad will ofter some advantage. 

I'"rom Fredericton back to St. John by rail ; and here the Intercolonial once more 
received us and whirled us off to Moncton. Tiie rails follow up the Kennebecasis, 

1 1 1 

h'Fif nh'r.\'su7Ch: 


and hid its diniinisli('<l waters farewell a little heyond tin- tlirivinu; town of Sussex. 
Names of stations aloni^ this section of the I'oad are fresh, and a ti'ial to the memory. 
Oiiispamsis, NauwiLjewaid<, i'assekeai^-, .Xpohaiuini, I'eiiohsiiuis, AnaLjance, i'etitcodiac — 
the)' arc jiimhieil in our ears inextricahiy. .\h)neton is a railwa\' centre', a |)lace of lar- 
works and machini^-shops, of incessi'iitly screechint^ locomolixes, of trains e\er cominjof 
and dei)artini;, so that one at tirst imai^ines it a i^reat meti'oi)olis. l!ut wluii he leaves 
tlu! station he liiuls himself in a very criKh: little city of perlui]''^ se\cn thousand inhab- 
itants, llotels are primitive, .md with oik; exception, thi; (|uainl, homelike, old W'eldon 
House, unsatisfactory. The streets are deep with mini on a i-ainy day, ;iiul in dry 
weather tleeper still with a marvellously pervasive red dust. No one was excr heard 
to chiim that Moncton could be called beautiful. Hut it is certaitd\- lively, and to all 
appearances is yoing to >;ive a n'ootl account of itself. I'^xcrywhere houses are going 
up, and shops and factories. The citizens have iinlimittid trust in themselves, and the 
trust seems to be tolerably well s;rounded. At the remotest end of the city, spouting 
black smoke, rises the tall tow(;r of the sugar-relinery, towanl which Uie faithful Monc- 
tonian turns his face in lUloration seven times a da\. 
In faith he proceetls to buikl a ship upon the short:. 
When the tide is out the .Moncton whar\es are washed 
only I))- a sea of coffee-colouretl ooze, and the river is 
a meagre thread of nontlcscript lluid sliid<ing along a 





full half-mik' from the spot where the ship is on the stocks. But he knows that when 
he wants it the water will be there. Twice a clay the Petitcodiac takes its rank 
among great rivers. .'\fter the wide, rusty-hued mud-tlats have lain vacant during the 
long hours of tiie ebb, their ; idual slopes gullied here and there by headlong rivu- 
lets, there is a distant, muffled roar beyond the marshes ami the dykes. Presently a 
low white bar of foam, extending from side to side of tht; channel, appears around the 
bend. Almost in a moment ihe cliannei is half-filled, the llats disappear, the flood is 
pouring into the creeks, and behold a mighty river, able to bear fleets upon its bosom. 
Moncton's present desire is for docks, wiiich she will probably get. Then, having set 
her heart upon becoming a seaport town, in spite of the slight inconstancy of the 
Petitcodiac, a seaport town she will in ail likelihood be. 

hat when 
its rank 
uring the 
ong rivu- 
-esently a 
•ound the 
e flood is 
ts bosom, 
laving set 
cy of the 





;ul\ ciiturcrs, storm-loxiiii; \ ikiiigs, ex- 
plored till- Atlanlic coast of Nova Scotia 
trom Cape Nurih to Cajjc Saliit four luiiulrcd years 

K'forc Columbus turned iii(|uirinL;- eyt^s 'ipon the 
Westtrn Sea. Icelandic and Nor\vej,nan tales tell 
of iioolless wandering' far fi-oni home, nameless 

amis, — lands simny and iertile, horderini^- upon 
waters l)lest with perpetual calm, - hut very far 
away. .\11 honour to the unrememhered pioneers, 
stront^ of arm and stout of heart, who, tleeinjj 
from a \'iitorious t\iant, ;-.ouL:ht freedom under the 
t;loom\" skies of Iceland and on the lonei\' waters of 
the ocean. That old disco\ery of tiie New World 
survi\ed only as a dream ; the record of it was 
hiildeii awa\- amid m_\ths and romances. Actual 
luM'opean settlem(-nt was maile in Cai>e Breton, 
near Canso, as early as 1541; and before that time 
the fisheries of Canso and other places in the vi- 
cinity had attracted the attention of the I'Vench. 
One old mariner is spoken of who had made forty- 
two voyatjes between Canso and his home in France, 
prior to 1605. 

In 1583 Sir Humphrey Gilbert visited Sable Island 

• CopyriRht, 1884, by Belden Brotliers. All rights reserved. 


ricrrRi'Sori- \. 


;ii)(l fount! it tlii-n (as we liiul ii still) roii^li and ixrilons. No lijfiuliousc warned him 
of (laMLjiToiis sands or trwichoiis ciirri'iits ; and lie I isi one of his vessels with a hun- 
dred men. I iif two vessels 'lich remained, tlie (•'i>l</iii lliiiil and the Si/iiim/, set 
out for their I'Ji^lish home. '\'\\vy \ver(; sorely tossed hy tempests, and on a d.irk 
nii^dit, off the Azores, the poor little Hi/iiirn/ was swallowed liy thct waves, Sir lium- 
phrev (iilhert K"'"K 'h)wn with her. Shi' was a rraft of only ten tons. "C'oura^^e, 
mv lads! we an- as near ileavcii by sea as hy land," was Sir llumphrey's last messajL^e 
to the Ca|itain ;ind men of the lioldcn IliiuL 

jiaron de I.eri had attempted, some years hefori-, to colonize Sal)le Island, hut the 
oidv L!;ood n'sultinLj from his effort was that livt; stock was left on thir desolate spot, a 
veritahli^ c'aslini,^ of bread on the waters, wliieh has since saved mr.ny a shipwreckeil 
seaman from famine. iOwards the close of the Sixteenth century a _i;rim experiment 
in colonization was made i)y Martpiis \\i- la Roclx', who had been sent to America 
with two hundred consicts from I'lcnch prisons. I'Drty of these he placed on .Sable 
Island to prepare for a larj^cr s(!ttlement. lie was to call for them, but while tryini^ 
to fultil iiis promise a terrific storm cau<.,du him and hurried him across the Atlantic 
in twelve days. The captives were left to battle with hunger, cold, and the raj^'e of an 
almost ceaseless ti.-mpest. lor se\en dreadful years they struj.;_<,ded for existence. At 
the end of that period tweKe survived, j^aunt, lont;-beardeil, squalitl,— eaj^er enough to 
return to their native \a\m\, where they \ver(' panloiied and provided for. Thus endeil 
the attempt to colonize- Sable Island. The dreary spot is twenty-six miles long, by two 
or three miles in width. There runs along its centre a salt water lake, thirteen miles 
long. The almost constant gaU;s jiih; up great sand dun(;s into hills, and surround 
their bases with fringes of wdiite foam and spray. Ilttre myriails of sea fowl gather, 
lay their eggs, ami hatch their young. It is also a gathering place of vast llocks of 
seals. Sabli- Island |)onies have a reputatioi) second only to those of Shetland. There 
are about two hundred on th(; island, and from twent)' to thirty are sent \\\i every 
season to Halifax to Ix; sold. D'.Xnville lost part of his ill-fated fleet on these sands. 
A Spanish llei-t sent out to colonize' Cape Breton was wrecketl lu.'re. E\er)' winter 
brings its sad tale of ships anil li\es lost ; but the story becomes less heart-rending as 
lighthouses, fog-horns, fog-bi;lls and other provisions for saving life and preventing suf- 
fering are becoming more ami more efficient. The benevolent care of the Government 
has robbed Sable Island, this dreary outpost of our Dominion, of more than half its 

When De Monts and Champlain explored the Nova Scotia peninsul.i, in 1604, they 
found that it was spoken of by the Indians as Acailie, a " region of plenty." It 
abouniled in what the Indians prized most highly, fish, moose, caribou, partridges and 
the smaller fur-bearing animals. We, who have succeeileil the and the Maliceet 
have ampler proofs that Acadia is rich in "the chief things of the ancient mountains, 

Nor.i SCO/'/. I. 


lied llim 
1 a luin- 
/•/•(•/, srt 
a dark 
ir Iliim- 

, l)iit the 
i; spot, a 

:)ii Sal)le 
lie tryin},f 

i^v. i)f an 
.Mice. At 
ii()ii<^h to 
Ills ciuleil 
!<;, liy two 
(•(■11 miles 

vl _i;ather, 
. llocks of 
a. Thcr(- 

lip every sands. 
L'ry winter 
endinj4 as 

nlinix siif- 

n half its 

1604, they 
enty." H 
ridj^es and 

the precious things of the lasting hills, aiid ilic precious thinj^s of the earth anil the 
deep that coucheth henc.ith." Champlain, with I )e Moiits, explored the coast, visiting 
the harbors all round to Ann;.polis Hasin. Tlie liay of I'lindy was named li;iie 
Franijaise ; a name which it retained till ihe hritish look permanent possession of the 
country. , 

On hoard De Monts' ship was an activ(! and iiUelIiL;('nt prii-^t from Pari, an ardent 
student of nature. Ihis i^ood priest, Auiirey l)\' nanu-, was wont to land with the 
expioriii!.;' p.irlies, in (nder to take note of the llor.i and launa of the loimtry. At St. 
Mary's Ma_\' he landed, hut failed to reiiirn to the ship. Days and nii^hts were spent 
in searchinj^ for him, without success, TIk! e.\|)e(lition was |)aitl\' Catholic, partly 
Protestant ; and the last |)erson seen with ,\ul)rey was a i'rol(.'stant, an ardent coniro- 
vi:rsialist. I'or a time the i^rim suspicion creiJl into the minds of Aubrey's friends that 
he hail met with foul play at th(,' hands of his keen antai.,fonist ; but after se-venteen 
days he was found on the shore, very weak and wasted, having subsisted on herbs ami 

The explorers crept along, by creek and cape and headland, tdl they caiiK; to a 
marvellous ga|) biMween two hills, ollering a vista into the bowels ol the land. Enter- 
ing, they found themseK'es in a placid harbour, \cr\' beautiful, .ind most iiuiting to 
men who wer(! wi:ary with the rough butf(!ling of tin; Hay of i'und)'. I'oiitrincoiirt 
breaks out into simple ehxpience : " It was unto us a thing marvellous to see the fair 
distance and the largeness of it (the Hasin), and th(,' mountains and hills that en\ ironed 
it ; and I wondered how so fair a [)lace remained desert, l)eing all filled with woods, 
seeing that so many pine away in this world who coulil make gooil of this land if 
only they had a thief go\crnor to conduct them thither." "We found meadows, among 
which brooks do run without number, which come from the hills and mountains 
adjoining." "There is in the passage out to sea a brook that falleth from the high 
rocks down, and in lalling disperseth itself into a small rain, which is very delightful 
in summer." 

This is our first authentic glimpse of what is now and long has been " Annapolis 
Basi. " The |)raise lavished on its loveliness is not unmerited. Steamers now daily 
come and go through Digby ("jiit, the narrow and picturesijue entrance. The Hasin 
itself is rimmed with hills, which, in the stillnesss of the morning and even- 
ing are reflected in its bosom. Between the hills and the water's edge are 
ranges of white cottages, long lines of orchards, gardens, cultivated fields — proofs 
enough of the presence of an industrious and prosperous population. 

Poutrincourt obtained a gran'c of this region and founded the town of Port Royal 
on the north side of the river, several miles above the present town of " Annapolis 
Royal." For a time the little colony lived right merrily, as if there were no plagues, 
famines or wars in the w-orld. They toiled and rested when it suited them ; they forme(i 



/'/CTCK /-'.Si )('/■: C.I. V.I /hi. 

lastino^ friendships with the Indians; thc\- cxplnrfil tlic country, endured its inevitable 
hardships, and enjoyed its freetlom. 1 Iny lioastetl of a l)aker wiio could niaUe hread 
as good as could l)e fouml in Paris itself! l'"or a Un^^■ they had to i^rind their j^rain hy 
hand — labour which they detesttnl ; hut i)y and hy the\- were able to utilize- water 
power. They hail a Ljood store of wine, and used dail\- three (piarts each ; but the 
supply showins^ ^i.i;""^ "' exhaustion, the allowance was reduced to ;i j)int. I'ish anil 
game of the finest quality were abundant. Tlie Indians freely gave their UvW friends 
half the venison they brought in. Was it any wonder that Champlain was moved to 
institute a new order of chivalr\' roiuirc dc boii Iciiips .' Ii consisted of fifteen chief 
members, each of whoi.i became in turn caterer and steward lor the ila\', and enter- 
tained all the ri'sl. .At dinner the steward for the da\' led the van, with najiUin on 
shouliler, staff in hand, and the collar ot his oiihr round his necl<. Ihe guests followixl 
in procession, each bearing a dish. At the close of \.\\c ilay's festi\it\' a new steward 
assumed the insignia and tlie cares of office, and was responsible for the ne.xt feast. 
Thus cheerily passed the winter of 1606-7 on the shores of Port Royal Hasin — the 
happiest winter, perh.ips, in ,ill these centuries. 

We cannot follow minutel\- the fortunes of this brax't- and heartsomi; little colony. 
Once and again, wlien they felt the sting of winter's frost, the\' resolved to remove to 
a warmer clime ; but storm or misaiK'enture drove them back again, P>ail news from 
France li-d to the total ab.indonment of the little settlement in .August of 1607, greatly 
to the regrc't of the Micmacs, among whom they had niaile many friends and no foes. 
Champlain had bi en three and a half years in Acadia. lie left it now for a wiiler 
sphere and \aste-r explorations. 

In 1610 P>)utrincourt, with the King's sanction, returned to the spot he loved so 
well. He w;is accompanieil by Jesuit missionaries, among whose converts was the \et- 
eran Chief Membertou, who was then a hiuulreil years old, and could wi:ll iemember 
Jacipies C'artier, I 'ying shortly after his baptism, he was the first Indian in .\cadia 
burieil in consecrated ground. llow simple a matter in those ila\s for kings and ipieens 
to dispose of proxinces arid parcel out the earth's surface ' Poutrincourt had a grant 
of Port Royal. I )e Monts had the' whole of .\cadia besides. Madame < iuercheville 
bought out l)e .Monts. and then the King granted her the whole province, with the 
exception of Port Ro\al. • _ . 

Evil times were near. In 161,^ Captain Samuel .Argall, commissioned by the Gov- 
ernor of Virginia, swept down upon the I'Vench settlements along the Bav of i\indy, 
and utterly demolished Port Royal. The rough seaman destroyed ever-, nv murial he 
could find of the I'Vench pioneers. Before leaving Port Royal he had a -:;irmy inter- 
view with Biencourt. son of Poutrincourt, thi;n in charge, a stream rimning between 
them. They accused each other of robbery, piracy, and other crimes. An Indian 
naively expressed surprise that men who seemed of the same race aii'] faith should 



make war on one another. How often lias tliat dittirnlt}' ocrnrreH to f)tlier minds since 
1613! Poiitrinroiirt al)an(lonr(l his liolovctl scenes forever. RfturniiiL;- to I'lancr, lie 
died in battle in 1(115 llu two expeditions of ArL^all frnm N'ii^inia to destroy the 

Tr t/B -S '-KgH ;'*^ " conllieis between loH'at liritain and i'ranie, which 

knew l)iit siiort intermissions until the linal triumjih of 
British arms upon the Plains of Aln-aham. 

Annapolis Hasin, so peaceful now, was the scene of many a hard tussle between 
the contendini:;- races. '\'\\v hills echoing- to the whistle of the steam eni^ine, the rum- 
blin<; of railway trains, or tlu^ sii^iial mms of steami'rs, olten echoed the tluiiuk'r of 
war. After Arr^'^"^ ilestructive swoop, a Scotch colony came, hut failed. The l'"rench 
trieil ajrain with fair prospects of siucess, hut an JMi^lish. licet \isiteil them and left 
nothing- behind but ashes. It is a sadly monotonous story for many lonj;- years, — 
sunshine and hope ami then sudden hurricaiK-s of war. 

Biencourt bequeathed his rii;hts in Port Ro_\al to nouiil^ Charles dc l.;i Tour, a 
man of remarkable saijacity, coura,t.:^e, and enterprise, -the most iu)t(.'worth\- figure, 
indeed, in the Acadian period of Nova .Scotia. I'or a time' he lived at Port Ro\al. 
aiul then, about 1626, he removed to a c(m\-enient port near Cape .Sable, and built a 
fort then; which he held for b' ranee, and which he named l'"ort Louis. 

Charles La Tour is renuMnbercnl f<u- his chi\alr<)us loyall\' to his country' in the 
face of severe temptation. Ills father hail been captip^ecl by .\dmiral Kiike and taken 




as a prisoner to Entrland. In 
a few nuintlis he was rcadx- 
to t^ive lip his own country 
and serve Kini,^ James, to 
whom he was introduced and 
witli whom he became a fa- 
vourite, and married an Imv 
ghsh lady ; and bein_sT made 
a baronet of Nova Scotia, 
he returned to Acadia in the 
interest of England, promis- 
ing that his son also would 

at once submit to the English 
crown. He had with iiim 

two armed vessels, and, ac- 
companied by his wife, ar- 
rived at Port Latour. He 
told his son how the Kini; 

to live near Fort I.ouis, in Port 

g cf lingland had honours in 

J^ Store for him if he wouiii 


>. only give up the Port ; he 

2 coaxed, he promised, he en- 
treated, he threatened ; but 
all in vain. He e\en attacked 
Fort Louis with what force 
lie could bring to bear upon 
it ; but tile attack was bravely 
repulsed. The father, cha- 
grined, disappointed, dreading 
the punishment of treason if 
he fell into the hands of the 
P^rench, and ashamed am! 
afraid to return to I'lngland. 
hastened with his Scotch co- 
lonists to Port Royal. After 
a time, when Charles La Tour 
was in cpiiet possesc-icn of 
Acadia, he invited his father 
Latour, init neither he nor his wife was ever allowed 

NOl\l SC0J7A. 


to enter the Fort. In the days of liis dec]) pnvcrtx and disirrace, Charles I, a Tour 
told his Engli^lil wife of his j^rief on her accnunl and his willingness that she should 
retnrn to her»)ld homt; with its peace and comfort. Siie re|)lied that she ha\l not 
marrietl him to abandon him in the day of ad\crsit\- that wher<'\(r he should taUe 
her and in whatever condition they were placed. Iccr object woidd W: to lessen his 
^rief. It is pleasant to learn that their closint^ years were peacefid and h ippy. 

The Scotch colony existed in I'ort Royal for alxnit ten xcars. Diseases made 
fearful havoc in their ranks; and th(; Indians did the rest of the deadlv work. Two 
or three survived and joined the French. TIk; litth; town of I'orl Royal was taken 
and retaken over and over asjfain by contemlim;' adventurers, brenchmen at^ainst 
Frenchmen, or New Enj^land Puritans ai^^ainst the French. In 1654 Cromwell sent a 
fleet to recover Nova Scotia from the I'rench, and Port Royal was ca|)ture(l but not 
destroyed, Charles II. restored it to brench ride. It was captui";'d in i6qo by .Sir 
William Phipps, who came suddenly from Boston with three war vessels ami eiutht 
hundred men. The defences were in a tleplorabh; condition. The fort cdntaiiud eii^h- 
teen cannon ; but there were only ei<rhty-si.\ soldiers, antl no '.lefenc(- was attempted. 
The Governor of Acadia, M. Menneval, thouijjh presiMit, was ill with .^out. The |ieople 
offered no aid to the soldiers. .So the shrewil old Ciovcrnor made the best terms he 
could, which were hij^hly honoin-able. Phip[)s, h()we\cr, found itrelexis for breakim^'- 
the articles of capitulation, made the (iovernor a prisoner ol war, and permitteil the 
wholesale plunder of the place. 

This year the much-ve.\ed Acadian capital was visited 1)\- two pirate vessels with 
ninety men on board. They burneil all the houses ar the fort, killed some of the 
inhabitants and burned a woman and her children in her own house. 

Port Royal was then given up by the brencli authorities until Nov. 26, 1691, 
when V'llebon resumed possession. In 1707 repeated but fruitless attempts lo concpier 
it were made b)' strong but ill-managed ex|)eilitions from M.issachusetts. The I'lench 
defenders fought with womlerfid skill and gallantr\-, at the s.inie lime complaining 
bitte<iy of the neglect with which the\' were trt'ated by tin- King's governmeiit. Three 
years afterwards the New England colonists, aitled by the British Ciovernnient, sent a 
force consisting of four regiments of colonists and one of Roval marines, ( hieen .\nne 
largely aided the expedition out of her t)wn purse. The invailcrs -vere well ecpiippt'd 
for their work. A sturdy veteran, (ieneral Nicholson, had supreme charge. Port 
Royal was in no condition to .-(■sist. Soliliers aiid civilians were poor and discontented. 
Governor Subercase had onl\- about three himdretl men on whom he could depend, 
while the invader had more than ten lim(!s that mimber. The siege continued six da)s 
when Subercase capitulated. Garrison and town jieople wen- almost in a state of 
starvation. Nicholson changed the nann,' of Port Royal to .liuiapolis Royal, in honour 
of the Queen, He left a garrison of two hundred marines and two lumdreil and fifty 



New I'^ni^land volimtccrs in charge of tlir plncr. The cxix'dition cost New EiiLjland 
^23,000. I)iit lb" anidiint was roiniljiirscd 1)\ llic l".iii;iisli |)arliani(Mit. Tliis provcil 
to bi- tlu; final coiKiucst of " I'ort Royal"; but tin; era of peace was still in the far 

The En,>rlish liieil to estai>lish fricndl)' relations with the Indians, but their efforts 
were defeated by Uecn-wiited bri-iuh missionaries. Ihe Acadians refused even for 
hire to proeun' limber for ndjuildirn^- the fort. Eighty men, the i)est in the s^arrison, 
were sent iwcKe miles up ilu- .Annapolis ri\er (171 i) \.o capture some troublesome 
Indian-^. Ihe) were waylaid, and thirtx were.' isilled, anil the nmainder made prisoners. 
The iMfuch. wiih Indian allies, besieged .Annapolis, reducini^' its L''.arrison to sad 
straits. Hui it !'eld out braveU-, and in 1713 came tin; peac<! when I'"r.ince at last 
a i<nowIedt;(;iI Nova .Scolia as a British possession. In 1744, .\nnapolis was a<,rain in 
great ])eril — besii'i;ed by .\cadians and Indians. Through the enert^y and d(;t(.'rminati(5n 
of (*jo\ernor Masoanme the safelv of llu; ]>Iac(! was s(!cureil, Tlu? last sound or touch 
of war was in 17S1, when iwo .American vessels crept into ihe Hasin under co\er of 
night, captiu'cd the fort, spiked the guns, locked the townsfolk in the block-house, and 
then plunik'red the houses to their hearts' content. 

To-day no seem: is less likel\- lo suggest war than this peaceful Hasin, these gar- 
dens, orch.irds, groves, these well-shaded streets and fragrant |iatliways. I'^ven tlu: 
ruins o! the- ancient lortificalions -ditches, walls, ramparts, — wear an aspect of peace. 
A few .ancient cannon are rusting, never again to waken the echoes of the \ales and 
hills. Relics of the I'rench regime are still to be met with; cannon balls are turnt^d 
u|) by the i)low. and the tiile sometimes washes to the surface other souvenirs of the 
wars. ()nc house built in tlu- I'rench j)eriod remains. 

Annajxilis Hasin is jierhaps never so delightfid as when the voyager enters its 
placid w.alers after (lU'ounlering for a night or so the wild tiuuidt of the Hay of 
Fundv. \"ou Icavt; behiiul the fog-laden gale, and tlu; darkness, and the rage of 
w;iters, and you bh^ss the siuishine and calm inside the narrow gatt'way. Higby (iul 
(called i)y the earlier voyagers by the more dignified name of St. Cieorge's C'hannen 
is a'hout eighty yards witle and two mili-s long. The cliffs on the north are six 
huiulr<'d ,uul lifly fert high, and on the south side from foiu' lunulretl to five hundred 
and sixty feet. The town of Digby is three miles southeast of the strait, and is \c\\ 
l)leasantly situated on the hillside. The white houses are embowered among cherry 
trees, apple orchards, and ornamental shrubberv. It is a favorite resort during sum 

mer, aiul its attractions are iloubled when cherries are rii 



ts f 




fax, .St. John, I'ortland, Boston, and still greater distances, come to Digby to tastt 
the cherry ripe and red, or ripe and black, in its cool perfection. No fruit sur|)asse^ 
it in del 

ic u:v or 

vour. .A few miles beyond Digby, ahjng the edge of the Hasin. 
Bear River tumbles down from the South Mountain between bold and picturesque 



-tfSi^'*'"^''" ■ 



arc troiie. 


nnapolis Koyai rejoices in i 

ts s^rowing export of apples, 


hich an ample market is now secured in London. Uigby is famed for its " Digby 




chickens" — its smoked herrinj:;, "bloaters," haddock, ami shad. Hear River builds 
shi[)s, exports lumber, and fascinates with its cherri(!s. Clements exists on the repu- 
tation of long-slumberinjj iron works. 15ayview smiles from its pleasant perch at the 
very entrance of the Hay. Granville lies under the shelter of the North Mountain, 
and is connect(;d with Annapolis by a constantly plying ferry. 

lUit Annapolis Royal ceased to be the cajjital of Nova Scotia more than a hun- 
dred and thirty years ago, and we must now tell the story of Halifax. 

The HoNouK.MU.E l^DWAKD Sailed from England with 2,576 emigrants, 
and entered Chebucto Harbor June 21, 1749. Thirteen transports, led by the ".Sphinx," 
war-sloop, swept up tlu; bay, their llags lU'ing, their sails outspread, watched by won- 
dering savages, who darted about in their bark canoes like shuttles through the silvery 
mesiies of the water. 

The men of Massachusetts had presented the claims of Nova Scotia before the 
British Parliament in 1748, and their i-epresentations resulted in a generally aroused 
interest in the Province. A scheme was formed for popidating it with the troops 
which had been disbanded on the declaration of peace with P'rance. Tlu; I'larl of 
Halifax, President of the Board of Trade and Plantations, was empowered by the 
King to carry out the project, and as he felt for the infant colony a paternal affec- 
tion, he entered into the details with the utmost ardour. Parliament granted ^40,000 
to fit out the expedition. 

Intending emigrants were to be conveyed to the colony, maintained for twelve 
months after their arrival, and supplied with weapons of defence and implements for 
clearing the land ami for fishing, all at the expense of the British Ciovernment. So 
liberal were tiie inducements held out that in a short tinu; the thirteen transports were 
filled by an eager throng, impatient to enter upon the new Land of Promise. 

The settl(M-s chose a site upon the w<;st<rn shore of the liari)our, ami commenced 
work vigourously. Pive tiiousand people hatl to be housetl before; the cold weather, 
and few of them had handled builders' tools before. Under the leadership of their 
gallant young Governor, they cleared away the woods and laitl out a number of 
straight streets, crossing each other at regular distances. A large wooden house was 
built for Cornwallis, the doors, window-frames, etc., having been brought from Boston. 
A strong palisade, with block-houses at intervals, armed with guns, was thrown rouml 
the town. By t!ie timi; the dreaded winter had arrived most of the emigrants had 
houses of their own, and those who were unprovided for found shelter in the transports. 

The settlers had otiier and more formiilable enemies to contend against than forest 
and winter. The founding of a military town on Chebucto Bay meant that the Eng- 
lish would ultimately possess the whole country if they could. The Acadian French 
understood it so, and they and the Indians, influenced by them, were thoroughly un- 
friendly. Soon collisions occurred. Men who ventured into the forest for firewood 

NOr.l SCO 77. 1. 



s hail 

ily uii- 

never returned. Children were snatched from the cradle while the mother filleil her 
bucket at the spriuLj. Lonely huts were huriied, and whole families carried off to a 
captivity worse than death. On one occasion I )artniouth, a small hamlet on the eastern 
side of the harbour, was discovered in llames at midnii^du, the shrieks of the helpless vic- 
tims anil the rattle of (in-arms apprising the horrified watchers across the water of the 
attack. When a part\ Irom Halifax ventured across next mornin;^ they found a third 
of tlu! village ilestroy(;d, and tlu;. scalpi'd bodies of their countrymen consuminiL;' in 
the embc-rs of their homes. 

Ko I'enimore Cooper has yet arisen to chronicle ihest: tales of blood. Throui^h 
the musty pasjjes of ancient city archives, and the impassive records of history, the)' 
are scattered like thorns dropped by a careless hand to |)ierce the hearts of those who 
read. These are the nails which fasten Chebucto's pioneers forevi-r upon tlu! memor)-. 

The earl)- settlers of Ihd ; x were of a dexout mind. We hear of tlu; first iii\ine 
service on what is now known as the (irand Parade. St. Paul's Church and .St. .Mat- 
lht.;w's met'tinn-house were both commenced the first )ear of selllement. ( "loverninent 
House was built on the site of the prest;iit Pro\ ince nuildinj.f. It was but a ])rimitive 
abode for a commander-in-chief, with its low walls of one stor)-, and its defences of ' 
cannon small eiiouj^h to be mounted on hogsheads tilled with i^^raxcl. Another resilience 
was built on the same site eij^ht years later, which was afterwards sold for private 
use and reinovetl to a distant part of the town. It stands to this da)', or rather 
the bones (>f it stand, for modern shinj^U^s and plaster ha\e clothed the old skeleton, 
and it has lately been turned into an Infants' Home, as a <^a)' )oim_L;' belle mij;ht ripen 
into a Sister of Mere)- in her old as^x-. The present (io\ernment Mouse was erected 
in iSoo, at the south end of the town, the stone for the buildiiii;' having;- been pro- 
cured from .Scotland. Our earl)- settlers seem to have been unaware of the wealth of 
freestone and i;-ranite at their very feet. The Province Huildini,^ was erected on the 
old Government House site in the same year. It Contains the council-chamber, library, 
and assembl)- room, and is a |)lain and rather i^loomy eililice. 

It is .said, no doubt trul)-, that a thousand vessels may ride in perfect safety 
in Halifax Harbour. It lies nearly north and south, is six miles lonj;-, and contracts 
into the " Narrows," widinin^- afterwards into the Medford Hasin, a beautiful sheet 
of water. The harbour is accessible at all times of the year. Sambro Island, with 
its lio-Iu-house, marks the entrance; here a party of artillery are stationed with their 
i;uns to give the alarm in case of danger. 

Any foe attempting to run the blockade past the fortifications of Halifax Har- 
bour would encounter a perfect chcvaut dc /rise on both sides of the bay. Three 
miles from the city is MacNab's Island, on which stands Sherbrooke Tower, a 
circular stone battery, bearing on its top a beacon light to warn ships off the 
I hundercap .Sho.als. 




Nor.i scon, I. 







Next conK! tin; Martcllo Tower ami batteries of I'oiiit IMeasant on the western 
side, Fort Clarence on tin- eastern siilc, ami I'Ort Cliarlotte on tiic small j^reen island 
called St. Cieorge's, which rises like a suj^ar-loaf hat in tin; middle of the harbour. 
Should fortune favour the invade-r thus far, iu: would b<! e.xposcjd to a Jiii ({'infer from 
I'Ort Georjfe on the Citadel, a hill overlookini.,' the town, apparently fashioned by 
Nature herself for its defence. 

Leavinjj our imaginary foe where, let us hope, our (juns would i)l()w him — nowhere — 
let us tahe a peep at the biu, ramblinjf earth-work called Fort Ge()r),fe. A superb view 
of the city, harbour, and surroundintr co-intry can be seen from its walls, as a j,dapce at 
our illustration will show. Citadel Hill is 256 feet above the level of the sv.ix. The 
city lies between it and tlu; water, but as far as the eye can reach on either side the 
houses have crept up, huj,fj,nn).( their ^ruardian. It i^ a pretty scene on a clear, sunny 
morning — the straight cross-streets leading the eye down to the glistening water ; the 
spires here and there among green foliage ; then l)eyond the wide sweep of sail-flecked 
ocean, with the smoke of a steamer brushing the horizon ; the low hills on the Dart- 
mouth side, and .St. George's Island, so green and prim, like' an islet dropped out of a 
play, mid-harbour. The first battery that w-as raised on the Citailel was an octan- 
gular wooden tower, with port-holes for cannon ; a ditch and ramparts surrounding it, 
pickets placed close together. Massive stone-work has displaced the wood ; a spacious 
fort, with subterranean c.nsemates, shows only a grass-covered roof above the wide, dry 
moat which surrounds it. Cannon at evtTy angle, and few would guess what a busy 
world is concealed within those earth-works. A sentry marches up and down the 
swinging bridge before the narrow entrance-gate, and eleven guns stand in a semi- 
circle below him, like petrified watch-dogs. 

Halifax is viewed to best advantage, however, from the water. Step into a small 
rowboat, such as wait for hire by scores at the various public wharves, and push 
out on a summer evening, when the sun is setting behind the .Admiral's house and 
the moon waits behind the Dartmouth hills for her turn. On every glassy ripple 
glimmers a mimic sun; the terraced city is batheil in coiiUiir de rose: the grass in her 
Majesty's Dockyard and the big tree near which his Worship the Mayor stands to 
welcome royalty take on a gem-like green, as thougli illuminated and transformed by 
.Aladdin's Lamp. The windows of Mount Hope Insane Asylum are sheeted with fire, 
that slowly dies as the sun sinks lower; soon only the tall flag-staff on the Citadel, 
with its many flags telling of ships coming home, flames in the dying sunset embers. 
Myriads of pleasure-boats thread their way in and out on the water alleys among the 
ships at anchor ; her Majesty's flagship and her consorts lie motionless as forts amid 
the animated scene. 

Before we leave the harbour L-t us take a peep at the battery on St. George's 
Island. Like the fort on Citadel Hill, it is built of massive stone, behind great earth- 





/'/( /Y RliSQUE CANAIK I. 

works. It is an ant-hill of luinian lu-ini^s, whose cells arc casemates, arniori(;s, and 
arsenals in the \anltcti thinks of bastions, dfep ixiried in tin- piles of niasonr\. As we 
jfrope after a i,niard throuj^h descending passaj,'es, tin- air i^cts colder and colder, until 
the walls can he seen jflistenin.iLj with the oo/ediidden s|)rin^s, anil icecoUl pools recei\e 
our unwillini; feet. W'c stc'p, at lenj^lh, into one of the casemates, where a lannon 
stanils before its round port-hole, like a lion peerinj^ from his covert, wailiiiiL; for his 

No lovelier "bit" could oe than the bird's-eye \ iew from that port-hole out of the 
bowels of St. (ieorjfe's Island. .\ll rouiul the ,t,'rim circle sun-},dlded i^rass w.ived in 
wanton jjraci-, concealing; the port-hole and its ileailly oicupant from outsiders. Out 
yonder a llood ol sea and sunshine, with a lonely li_t;ht-hous<' perched upon its tonj^ue 
of rocks, anil a yacht skiinmins^ past, her sails tin<.;i'il liki; rose-leaves, while a sea Ljidl 
tlevv from the dark woods on MacNab's Island and Muttered seaward. 

Halifax is fond of her l)i;4 pleasure pond. There is the Royal \'acht Club, of 
which the I'rince of W'ah's became an honoiirarv member during his visit in 1S60, and 
to which he presented a challent^e cup for yearly com|)etition. There are boat races, 
wati r i)arties, excursions, ami lishin^ ad libitum. In the winter season the Hasin, 
which is ten miles lonij, mak(;s an admirable i^round for trolliniL,^ matches, sleinhin<; 
parties, ami a score of other ice amusements. " I'p the road" is a favourite drive of 
the citizens, and a lovelv one when the oaks and maples are in foliaije. \'ou skirt the 
edge of the Hasin for nine miles, when the prett)' \illai4C of Bedford comes in view, 
and \ou |)Ut up at one of the hotels, anil re-turn to the city in the moonli<.;lu. The 
"Prince's Lod^e ' is a reb' of the Duke of Kent's days, situated about si.\ miles trom 
Halifa.N, and built by him for a summer house. Nothing now remains but . small 
wooden pavilion (once the music room), perched upon a romantic luit^ht, overhanging 
the dee[), maple-shadowed water. The iailwa\' now cuts so closely under it that it 
trembles to its foundations as the iron steed thunders on its way. 

There are ui)warils of thirty churches to the city's fortv' thousand inhabitants, the 
oldest being the "Little Dutch Church" (Lutheran), built by the Cii;rman settlers in 
1 761. It remains unchanginl, with the exception of such necessary repairs as prevent 
it from falling to pieces. .\ conspicuous object, as seen from the water, is the tall 
white spire of St. Mary's Cathedral (Roman Catholic). Like the " Doni," of Cologne, 
it swallows u|) all other spires, a fact due rather to its excellent situation than its 
architectural merit. 

Halifa.x is distinguished for its charitable institutions — the Lunatic, the HIind, the 
Deaf and Dumb Asylums, Infants' Home, Orphans' Home, and a long list of others. 
A stately castle in red brick, with turrets galore, was dedicated to the paupers ; but it 
was, unfortunately, destroyed by tire in 1883, and the old Penitentiary received the 
inmates for a time. 

AY)/-./ Si 0/7.1. 


Until recently the twin arts of niiisir and the ilrania found Imt a lukewarm wel- 
come in lialilax; Imi the erection of llie Academy of Music, a i^ay little theatre s( ine- 
wliat in the st\le of the lifth Avenue, New N'ork. lias i,dven them an iuipulse l''.x- 
hil)itiou Hall not only serves for l'r<)\incial exhibitions, hut also for a spacious rink, 

Mi'.N or WAR. n,\i.nAX uakhc'"«. 

ind, the 


i but it 

ved the 

ba/aar hall, and t^eneral public (Mitertaininents. Dalhousit; College, situated at the 
north end of the (irand Parade, was estaljlished in the year 1S20, at the desire of Lord 
Dalhousie, whose name it bears. It has had a somewh;it checkered history, but is at 
the present time in .i thnirishinj^ condition. Within the past few years it has beiiel'ited 
by ihv. liberality of one of Xox.i Scotia's best sons, who has contributed to it ovtM" a 
quarter of a million of dollars. The i lis^di School, which is the old (irammar School 
resuscitatt'd and enlar<;ed, occupies a central position at tlu; south end of the Citadel. 

Let us now turn from tln^se details to the contemplation of some of tin; city's 
l)reathin,!4- l>kic<'s. 

A charminij nisort for the people of Halifax is I'oint Pleasant Park, situated 
on tlu; tonjfue of land between tlie harbour and the Northwest .Arm. Broad carriage- 
drives of a most i;xcellent smoothness wiml through the natural fon^st, the shimmer 
"f the se;i e\-er and anon closing the vista. l'"oot-p;uhs aboniul, where one might 
lose himself most enjoyabl\- among the labyrinths of rock, trees, and tall brackens 
Shut your eyes and ears to the plashing ocean all around, and fancy yourself in 



the Fllack I'ort'st of ("i<rm;iny. I licrr arc tin- mossy ri'arhi's imdtT tall piiu-s, the 
woaltli of wild tlowcrs, the sweet, r<!sinoiis otlour. as tht; path winds u|i and np, 
yon care not vv'hith<;r. Whore an; tlu; i iiins ? Then; is a );ood sui)stitnt»! in the 
old Martello TowtT - " I'rinct; of Wales Tower" standing,' ^nanl in the centre of 
its green clearinjj, and though thenr are no l(!j;ends of IMack Marons or wily |,ore- 
leis attached to its walls, it is a memorial of the days when ronj^di-handeil marauders 
hung about the shores and skulking Indians peered out of the surrounding greenery 
at the pale-face hraves, longing for their scalps ! 

This |iark contains one humlnd and sixty acres, and its foot-i)aths, riding- 
paths, and driving-courses a\(Tag( som(! ten or fifteen miU^s. The commissioners, 
witii admiral)le taste, have merely cleared away the underhriish, |)lanted young trees 
in vacant spac(!S, and crow i\ed the best spots for views with summer-houses, I'"our 
forts and batteries, besides the Tower, command the coast at different points, i'lu' 
War Department owned the whole peninsula until 1S74, when it handsomely conceded 
it to the city for a i)ark. Almost opposite the jjark stanils another frowning fort, N'ork 
Redoubt, on the west bank of tiie Nortiiwest Arm. The ipiaint little village of T"alk- 
land clings to the; sidt; of a precipit<ius i\i!l below it. Beautiful is tlu; seem; from this 
stern spot, of the Arm, with its richly wooded banks and its graceful inundations. 
Near the mouth of it are two massive; iron rings, fastcMied into the solid rock, from 
which heavy chains were wont to be stretcheil across to the opposite bank in time of 
war. Melville Island, near the head, contains what was formerly a war -prison. It is a 
two-story wooden building with grated windows, and is utilized by the resident 
garrison as a jail for tiieir criminals. Any day as you driv<r i)ast on the charming 
"Shingle Road" ynu may see the s(jldier felons in their prison garb at work upon the 
walls or embankments of their small territory. Gentlemen's residences can be seen 

" Bosomed hijjli in tufted trees " 


along the shores of the lovely sheet of water, and tiny pleasure-boats dot the clear 
expanse. If one would feast his eyes on a prospect not easily forgotten, let him 
climb the hill which overlooks the Arm on the western side and enjoy it at his ease 
in the rustic summer-house that has been perched there by Sandford Fleming, the 
great engineer. 

Humanity in this (piarter of the globe is worth a passing glance ; antl if- one 
desires his specimens an naturcL let him go to the Green Market on Saturday morn- 
ing. There is an excellent brick market-house with stalls that can be hired for a ver\ 
small rent, but the preference of the honest country folks is to sit in the open square 
behind the Post-Ofiice and there vend their goods untaxed to the early customer. 
From the country settlements east and west they come in horse-carts, ox-teams, and 

Nor. I SCOT/.t. 


on foot. riitTc arc Dutchwomen from alonjij the eastern shon* with their l)ask«'ts of 
>,'n'en crops, wiiich have l)een nourished 011 ihc |iiircst o/r)ii<' and ilic lichcsi sta-kcl|). 
There arc' tile Uhu'-nos*; women, l»road and hi),di-coh)ure(l, fearless alike of wind aii<i 
weatiier, as they ilrivc their loaded teams by night over rouj,di and lomls roails, to 
reach the earliest l)artmoull\ ferry-hoat. 'I'h«'y offer, with a friendly smile on their 
weather-beaten visages, |)rinirose butter, pcniii, under cool labbage-leaves, and pearl)' 
eggs, food for the goils. There are lank-limbed countrymen clad in rough gray home- 
spun, standing besitle their loads of \cgetables or salt marsh hay ; not keen and 
shrewd-eyed, lik<: New Mngland farmers, but bashfully courteous of speech, with the 
soft lisp of th<! (lerman fatherland on their tongues or the burr of their Scottish 
ancestry. Here are a pair of l-renchwomen with baskets of knittiHl goods on their 
arms. Contrast the withered and yellow grandame. \\v.x grizzled hair bulging in a roll 
above her bushy eyebrows, her claw-like hamls plying her knitting-wires, with the 
fresh young girl b)' her siile, wiiose arch black eyes sparklt: from out of her smooth 
olive fact;, and her white teeth ilisplay themselves in fidi force as we linger ihe huge 
mittens in her basket. Old and \<)ung art; habited alike in bKu; or black hantlkerchiefs 
tightly knotted under the chin, loose blue jackets with napkin shawls folded ov(!r them, 
and short woollen skirts. Scores of them h.ive been on th<; road all night, trotting the 
twenty-six miles from Cheggetcook on foot, their ling(,'rs busily jdying the knitting- 
needles all the way. There scpiats u negro matron on th(! pavement, her clouted feet 
stretched before her in utter disregard of passers by, a short black pi|)e between her 
pendulous lips. Iler layers of rags clothe her like tlu; fungi of a dead tree; her 
padded hooil is fashioneil to fulfil the office of a saddle; for her loail. She has 
luscious wild strawberrit!S in little birch-barks, which she offers you in an unctuous 
falsetto, stufifing her pipe into lu;r bosom the better to overhaul her store for a fresh 
one. You paus(; in your bargain as you wonder whether her leclli hulled the tempting 

fruit I 

The " noble red man " and his squaw also attend market. There they stand, a 

degenerate pair, clad in the cast-ofT clothes of the white man, their merchandise 
consisting of llag and willow baskets gayly dyed and an occasional porcupine-quill box. 
The squaw is prematurely aged. Her broad, copper-coloured face is inconceivably 
wrinkled ; her eyes, from their ambush of folds, peer forth with a snaky gleam. The 
" brave," propped up right against the Post-Office wall, dozes with his bunch of rabbits 
(in their season) dangling in his hand, and, working his jaws mechanically on his quid, 
dreams of— rum. A bronze-tinted papoose is strapped under a filthy blanket at the 
mother's back and its impassive little face surveys life over her shoulder with a perfect 
philosophy. This trio has drifted from one of the wigwam hamlets near Dartmouth, 
and thither they will return when their wares are disposed of, if they do not fall 
victims to rum and the station-house. 


/'/c'rch'/:s()c/-: c.i.v.i/ki. 

m I ' 

I^cforc \\v l(\T\(' the iiiark<'l-s<|uarc Id iis l;I;uui' up ( Icori^jc Street, a l)iis\- (piarter 
at all times. Imt (l()iil>ly so on market daxs. In the lorenround a eompanx' of her 
Majest\'s ojth re^iTiienl is niarchini.; to tlie l)artmoi!th fei-r\-l)oat prol)al)l\' on its 
\va\ io the I'-astern Passage shoolimL^-L^ronnil. Some of our market-folks are silting: at 
the receipt ol custom ilrivinu; their l)arL;ains. while an ox-cart or two are couiposedK' 
stationed In ihiir coloured owners where the street tiatlic must llow round them as it 
best can. On the left of the picture stands the l'ost-( )rrue. a h.mdsome stone huildini^' 
of rec<'nt date. 1 he \ ist.i up the street is \er\ (iiiaint. cIosihI in as it is liy Citadtd 
Hill, so soflK' j^rei'ii. with the (jueer old towiicloik in Iront ol it. 

The I'ulilic (i.irdens on " l)and-tla\ s " are the lavourite resort of nursemaids and 
their chari^f's and Noun^ L;('iitlemen loud ol llirlini^ .nul lawn-tennis. There are 
fourteen acres ot Ljround. Iii'autilully arrant^ed with ornaniental shrubberies, rookeries, 
arbours, ponds, lountains. lawn-tennis ,ourt. etc. The military or marine band, is the 
case nia\' be. performs in a tree-c;i-cled stand : the babies and theii- maids wind round 
the musicians, and the f.ii • ladi(;s ol I lalilax proiiienade tlv outer walks to tin music 
of .Stiauss or ,Sulli\an. quite uiu'onscious ol the knots ol vouiil;' exciuisiies who sl;ind 
on the ^rass and .admire ihem. .\ strani^er is struck with the jieculiarly healthy j^low 
of these ladies' complexions, as compared with the bleached faces ol their .American 
sisters. i)oiibtless. the .\ilantic breezes ha\e to answc'r tor the delicate soiifnoii of 
tan —the lis^hi s|)rinklint^- of freckU's on pretty nos- s that William lilack has laui^lit us 
to admire on his lunoines. 

.Since \'o\a .Scotia was settletl lishin^ has been one- >)l its most in-portaiU industries, 
and llalifax county has ^one into the business lar>.;c'l_\-. Not on'y are salt-water tish 
in abundance, but the lakes and streams swarm with s.dmon. H'out. j^aspereaux. perch, 
and eels ; not fort^cttiui;- the small, delicious smelts. cauLjht throui^h the ice by the 
cart-load, anil worllu' of a place on l)elmonico's bill-ol-lare. ilalilax tish-market is said 
to ha\c a more \aried supply all the vear round th.m any o'her in .\merica. There 
are sixteen diffeicnl species, of which the salmon, cod, ami mackerel ,ii'<' the most 
im|)ortant. llalifax tits out numerous lleeis loi- the Labrador and Island Ikinks 
tisheries, but all alon<'' the .Xtl.antic shore, east ;ind west, thei'e are tishin>j- \i!laL''es, 

wliose ( 

hiet subsistence is <raiiu 

d bv tl 

le cod and m.ickerel lishiiiL'- alonij the coast. 

s the Spring; opens the boats are e.xh.imed from barns or heaps of s|)riice-l)riish and 

caulked, pitched, or painted 


)nL; nets are spread on the ijrass around the 

cottaLTes ; the women are bus\' neltin''' or mending, their timji'rs pl\ in'' the rude wooiler 

shuttles ,is dexten 

uul lines are prei)ared 



)ri<rntennnj iia 

)usl\- as a lad\ weaves her fair\- tattini; with her i\ory to\ ; hooks 
all is bustle and expei lation. .And when the bo.its <;() out in 
wn, full of stalwart men -the fathers and husbands of those the\' 

leave- behind them when th<' sun smiles throusjli the white fo.', sendinL' it back to its 

breeding-jfrouiui ; when the lish 


in fast as hands can haul tl 

lem. and 



Noi\i scoriA. 


iiL;hl us 

ilcr fish 
, perch. 
jy ihc 
s said 
sli ami 
lui tlic 
out ill 
sc thoy 
; to its 
ml the 

mackerel - schools drift on tJK; deep blue 
water all .iroiiiul with a sound as of fal 
iiiL,'' rain then the weather- healen faces 
relax and the patient hearts rise hi5.,di 
with hope of a "o()(i(l lishin' sjiell." lUit 
when the lierce scpiall smiles the rock- 
hound shore and the wild hreakt'rs lash 
it with resistless force, many a deeply-laden boat is swept to its destruction ; many 

'I I 




a brave man sinks in sight of wife and home ; the earnings of toilsome years are 
lost in the greedy maw of the sea. i 

" For men must work, and women must weep; 
And the harbour-bar is moaning." 

Not one of the dozen towns or villages that lie along the Southeastern coast of 
Nova Scotia but has its story, or garland of stories, of adventure on the stormy deep. 
" They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in the great waters," some- 
times go forth to come back again with no returning tide. The sea claims her prey ; 
and nowhere is there a larger proportion of young widows and groups of little orphans 
than along the Atlantic coast. But there are abundant stories of triumphant conflict 
with the elements. Many a one has battled the storm all the way from Labrador to 
La Have, and the recital stirs the young blood during the long winter evenings when 
it is all in vain for the fisherman to tempt the perils of the deep. Many have won 
wealth on the coasts and banks and coves of Newfoundland, or away up among the 
rough Magdalens. They tell of comrades lost or snatched from the very grip of death. 
They tell of long, weary waiting, and then of sudden fortime, and the joy of the home- 
coming. No time in all the year is so eventful as when the well-known vessel heaves 
in sight, and the eager watchers name her name, and the word passes from lip to lip 
till the good news reaches the hearts of wife and children. Anxious fears are dispelled ; 
gloomy forebodings are laughed at and forgotten ; and there is more than the joy of 
harvest. The gains of this year tempt to renewed adventure next year ; or the season's 
losses kindle a hope of next season's gains. 

Scarcely a family along these bays and covts but has a deep personal interest in 
the sea : it is their mine and their harvest field ; a father or brother, a cousin, a lover, 
perhaps, is on the wave. The mother, the wife, the sister, the sweetheart, will watch 
and wait with longing heart and eager prayers. And often the waiting is for a 'mor- 
row that never comes — for a smile that is never seen again. 

One has to go back only to the closing years of last century and the earlier years 
of the present to gather up teles of privateering, bold robberies b) invaders and keen 
reprisals by the sturdy children of the sea. One story out of many must serve our 
turn. Its authenticity is vouched for. The hero was Captain Godfrey, of the little 
town of Liverpool, and the vessel was the armed brig Rover, which carried fourteen 
four-pounders. Her crew consisted of fifty-five men and boys, nearly all hardy fisher- 
men. Near Cape Blanco, on the Spanish Main, the Rover was attacked by a schooner 
and three gunboats under Spanish colours — the schooner carrying 125 men, ten si.\- 
pounders and other heavier guns. After a struggle which continued over three hours 
the gunboats made off, and the schooner, Santa Ritta, was taken ! Says Captain God- 


.: ! 







frey : " She was fitted out the clay before for ilic express purijose of taking us ; every 
ofificer on board of her was killed except those in conimaiul of a party of 25 soldiers ; 
there were fourteen men dead on her deck when we boarded her, and seventeen 
wounded; the prisoners, including the wounded, numbered seventy-one. My ship's com- 
pany, including officers and boys, by this time amounted to forty-live, and behaved 
with that courage and spirit which British seamen always show when fighting the ene- 
mies of their country. 1 had not a man hurt ! The enemy lost fifty-four. I landed 
all the prisoners except eight, taking their obligation not to serve against His Majesty 
until regularly exchanged." After numerous adventures Captain Godfrey arrived safely 
in his Rover at Liver|)ool, where, after the peace, he disarmed her and used her to 
carry fish to the West Indies. The British Government had offered him the command 
of a man-of-war, but he declined the offer. 

Tales of sore battle with the fierce Atlantic storms are too common at some spots. 
Yonder by that jagged, rocky islet, a great steamer sank in the gale, and not a soul 
survived to tell the story. In the grey dawn the fishermen on the shore could descry 
the masts and rigging of the Hungarian as the furious gale shrieked through them. 
Sadder still, close by a quiet cove near Prospect and sheltered from the storms by a 
beetling headland, — the spot where are hundreds of graves, of men and women and 
children, drowned, when no storm was on the sea and no darkness in the sky to 
excuse the cruel blundering of the careless captain of the Atlantic. The ledges are 
still pointed out beyond Cape Sable where many a gallant ship has gone down — where 
long ago a large portion of D'Anville's fleet was cast away by the great storm which 
the worthy Puritans of Moston believed to have been sent specially in answer to their 
Fast Day prayer to confound the plans of the invader. 

Halifax has within easy reach of it some sandy beaches that naturally attract hosts 
of summer visitors. Cow Hay, within a few miles of the city, is one of the most brac- 
ing and delightful bathing resorts in America. Westward, we find two silvery sand 
beaches at the head of Margaret's Bay, and the largest of all, some miles in extent, 
at Petite Riviere. These places are not so easily accessible — not reached by rail- 
way or steamer — and hence are not yet popular. The Atlantic coast seems as if spe- 
cially designed to afford the greatest possible relief in summer to those who suffer from 
the terrible heat of the interior of this continent. The large bays are dotted with 
islands, affording abundant scope for safe and pleasant boating excursions. The streams 
abound- in fish ; and the coast waters yield codfish, herring, mackerel and sometimes 
halibut, in abundance. 

Chester, forty miles south-west of Halifax, is reached by daily stage-coach, or 
private conveyance, along a delightful road, skirting the shore, or passing under the 
shadow of lofty hills. The village crowns a hill which slopes towards the sea and com- 
mands extensive sea views. There are delightful drives in the vicinity, and the bay is 

1 102) 




I' ■ 


dotted with innumerable islets. Aspotniran, a bold, bare iiill, the loftiest along the At- 
lantic coast, is usually visited from Chester. I'rom its summit one sees the fabled three 
hundred and sixty-five islands of Mahonc; Ikiy. Ca|)tain Kidd, the rt:doubtable |)irate, 
is crediteil wiili haviuL;- hiilden his treasure on Oak Island, near Chester, and ardent seek- 
ers after forbiddtMi wealth havt- expended fortunes in trying to reach the (earth's centre 
here. Once and again tiuy have penetrated over one hundred feet, as if a pirate could 
dig so deep even if lie had \vi,shed ! The village of .Mahone Ikiy is charmingly situated 
at the head of a narrow basin, whose mouth is screened by islands, and whose sides 
are sheltereil by steep hills. A few miles fartiier on is LuncMiburg, a tlourishing town, 
the centre of the county of the same name — a slice of Ciermany laid down in Nova 
Scotia. In winter this county is bleak and dreary, the forests having been largely de- 
stroyed by fires. In summer it is green and lovely, and in harvest time its hillsicies 
are golden with yellow grain. The town of Lunenburg rises on a gentle slope from the 
shore of the harbor. Viewed from Cosman's Observatory, which stands on the summit 
of an adjacent hill, the town appears white and clean in the midst of a vast panorama 


of peninsulas and sunny 
bays, sheltered creeks, 
and wooded islets — each 
set in a mirror of mol- 
ten silver ; — pretty cottages on grassy hillocks or half hidden in the valleys ; north- 
ward a vast crescent sweep of dark forest ; far southward the shining sea. An 



Indian villajre, Malaj^ash, ona; stood on tlif site of the town. Over two hundred fami- 
lies, German and Swiss, settled here in 1753, at the invitation of the British Govern- 
ment, which },rave them farminjr implements 
and three years' provisions. The ii„w comers 
suffered from the Indians, and tales are stil 
told of atrocities, fearful murders, and the 
horrors of a loni; captivity. Comparative 
nearness to Ilalifa.v was an 
element of safety here. When 
the Revolutionary war broke 
out, Lunenhurj^ was honoured 
with a \isit hy two |)rivateers, 
which took away all the loot 
they could fmd. In June, 1813, 
an American privateer was 
chased into these waters by a 
British man-of-war. It refused 
to surrender, and being 
in imminent danger of 
capture, was blown up by 
one of its officers. The 
whole crew perished. Lu- 
nenburg is now deeply 
engaged in fisheries, in 
ship-building, and in the 
lumber-trade. The Cier- 
man colonists who stood 


the brunt of pioneer life would 

liave been proud and satisfied 

if the)' could but have seen the 
prosperity of tlu'ir enterprising 


The 0\ F.NS, near Lunenburg 
town, ileserve to be looked at, 
if not explored. High cliffs fac- 
ing the Atlantic have been undermineil by tiie constant crash of the mighty waves. 
Several caverns iiave been formeil a Innulretl feet wide and two hundred feet deep, 
or more, into whicii tiie waxes roll and rush with tremendous force, and with a 
noise like thunder. When the wind is favourable the spectacle presented is grand, 
and the battle-sound of rock and wave deafening. Mere, in 1861, gokl was found in 
considerable quaiuities in tlu; sand; but tiie "washings" were fjuickly exhausted. Let 
us take a glimpse at the broad ami peaceful tidal river which meets the sea inside of 
Iko.n'bound Island, — the La Have, a favourite resort of the I'rench when they possessed 
this land. The river winds between banks that are well cultivated, or still picturesquely 
wooded. Along the sandy borders of the river the waters curl in gentlest ripples or 
seem quite asleep, while a mile or two outside the perennial conllict of iron, rocky bar- 
rier and fiercely dashing wave goes on. luoNiiouNi) is a treeless rock, .serving to break 


.1 ■.i_A.WMll^UlKlUf - Jl 




the force of the sea and to screen the islands that are inside, which are well wooded, 
fertile, and habitable. But when the storms of winter rave round these coasts, when 
the Atlantic ;s aroused by the gales of March and April, there are weeks that the 
dwellers on the islands cannot communicate with the mainland. Tnis was one of the 
first spots colonized by l-rance : here Isaac dc Razilly, the wise and jjallant Knight of 
Jerusalem, the sagacious Lieut.-Gen(,'ral of Acadie, the far-sighted captain of the West, 
died suddenly in i6;,6, and here he lies buried. His death was an irreparable loss to 
the men of whom he was the leatler ; for internal strifes followed which proved more 
deadly than the attacks of the common foe. 

Liverpool is the aspiring design. ition of a pretty little town, a mile long, on the 
right bank of th*; Rossignol. Tht; river is the outflow of a series of lovely forest lakes 
away up in tiie bosom of *he hills. This region was explored in i6?2 by Sir WilHam 
Alexander, who found " a pleasant river, and on every side of the same they did see 
very delicate meadows having roses white and red growing theieon, with a kind of 
white lily which had a dainty smell." 

Shklhuunk is one of the prettiest of towns, on a land-locked bay ten miles long 
by two or three wide. It has a curious history. The beauty of the situation attracted 
the attention of the Loyalists of New England, large numbers of whom came here in 
1783. In one year tlie forest along these peaceful shores gave way to a city of 12,000 
people. Wealthy i)atricians .sought here to live under the old flag. For the first year 
all seemed brilliant with hope. Governor Parr entered the bay in a royal frigate, and 
so delighted was he with the progress anil promise of the place, that he encouraged 
tile project of making it the capital of the Province in place of Halifax. Unfortu- 
nately, the harbor is so thoroughly land-locked that it is frost-bound in winter ; and 
this proved fatal to the claims of the new city. There was also no back country — 
nothing but the mighty forest behind from which to draw supplies or with which to 
trade. For two years the city grew apace. Two millions and a half dollars were 
expended in the costly experiment. It collapseil almost like a dream. In three or 
four years it became a village of 400 inhabitants. Many of the Loyalists went back to 
the United States. Many moved to other places where the hand of industry could earn 
a living. But the beauty of the situation remains, — bay, cliff, stream, island, the gleam 
of the distant .sea, and the unbroken belt of forest along the low ridges of the Blue 
Mountain range. There are fertile and well-peopled valleys in the county, and rising 
towns, such as Lock's Island, that the fisheries have made wealthy. 

Port Latouu must be looked at in honor of the brave man whose name it bears, and 
who stood true to his loyalty in spite of every temptation. Fort Louis, which young 
Latour held against his father, has vanished into space. There is but a small fishing 
hamlet now, where in the 17th century there was much trade and military stir. Cape 
Sable is the veritable Land's End of Nova Scotia,— rocky, rough and barren. 

jVOlVI SCOT/.-}. 


Yarmouth lies alnnj^ a line of low, rocky coast, tlic liarhoiir at lii^h tide full to the 
brim with the turbid waters of tlic Hay ol limd), and at el)!) tide scantily enough sup- 
plied. Cooling mists and ilense fo<:;s often conic in willi the tide, and the consequence 
is that the verdure of Yarmouth is of the deepest green, ami its blossoms of the bright- 

fisiii::kmi-.n i.anijing in a uali;. 

est white and red and purple. The streets are fairly well built, and off the lines of 
the streets rise the handsomest villas, embosomed in gardens and presenting every ap- 
pearance of taste and wealth. Nowhere will you see six thousand people better housed ; 
and the schools, churches, court house, factories and shojjs iia\e caught the same air of 
substantial comfort. \ armouth is a ship-owning town. It is staled tiiat in i;6i the 
whole county owned 25 tons of sliipping. The town now owns over a hundred and 
twenty thousand tons, — more in proportion to the ])opulation than any other place. 
The most eligible sites, tlu; most elegant buildings in town and \icinit\-, -ayv. tlie 
property of "captains" who have won wealth on the stormy seas, and who return to 
enjoy their well-earned rest in the bosom of their families. Every one is di-ejily Inte- 
rested in the sea, and shipping news is eagerly scannetl to find tidings of father, brother, 
son, or friend. The cruel sea claims large tribute from those who woo it for wealth, 


niCTl. KESQUI-: CVI.V.I/).!. 

and Yarmouth lias paid its share. Ilu- j^ravfs of iicr sons art; in many a stranjjc port, 
and in manj' an orcan cave. I'rudciitly, Yarmouth is turnin_i( her atl( niion to manufac- 
turinj^ industries. She lias foiin(h-ics, woolen mills, a duik factory ; ami a l)('j,dnninjj is 
made in iron ship-huiidini^f one of the i^'reatcst industries of the future. The .Acadian 
story coulil he repeated here— the lonj^ conflict, the expulsion, the return of a few, the 
cominiLi "^ New I'litjlanders to take possession of the pleasant herita<,fe. .\r<^yll Hay in 
this county is singularly beautiful with its 365 islands and numerous peninsulas, and 

pleasant little hamlets of prosperous fisher- 
men. But the section which is peculiarly at- 
tractive to the lover of nature, to the angler 
and the moose-hunter, is the lake region of 
Tusket. These lakes are eighty (more or 
less) in number, and are nearly all con- 
nected with the Tusket River. They are 
small, rock-bound, overshadowed by s|)ruce, 
birch, maple and beech ; while over the 
river itself the elm often droops its graceful 
branches. Here the fisherman is sure of 

abundance of gas- 

pereau.x in the lower 

reaches of the river. 

and farther inland, 

salmon and trout. 

The favorite haunts 

of the statel)' moose 

and graceful caribou 

extend along the sides of the Blue Mountain 

range over eighty miles. When we speak of 

lakes and rivers in Nova Scotia, be it noted 

that all of them together would not make 

one of the typical Canadian lakes or rivers ! 

But largeness is not necessarilv an element 

in beauty. And we boast in Nova Scotia 

of no fewer than seven hundred and sixty 

lakes ! 

And now let us return to the beautiful 

Annapolis Valley which we left in order to 

pay our respects to Halifax and the Atlantic coast. The North Mountain, running from 

Blomidon to Digby Gut, screens the valley from the raw breezes and fogs of the Ba> 



NCr.l SCO 77,1. 


of I'lmdy. I'Ik! South Mountain, wliicli rinis llu' wliolc Im^^tli of Nova Scotia, is 
parallel with tlic North Mountain for a distamc, of say cijL^hty miles. Thi: intervcnin^j 
vallt;;' i.s the '• >;arclcn of Nova Scotia," Its western half is tiic ".Xnnapolis Valley," and 


its eastern half the Cornwallis Valley. The river is navij^able to l{rid>,a:tovvn. But 
here, as elsewhere along the shores of the turbid Bay of Fundy, the traveller is startled 
by the amazing contrast between full-tide and low water. Tiie waters rush inwards 
with superabundant energy and opulence, filling up every creek and brooklet, till you 
begin to fear that old limits are to be overleai)t. Boats, ships, steamers ride gaily 
where an hour or two before they were squat upon a brown mud bottom. But watch, 
with just a little patience. At the perilous fullness there is a pause, a brief period 
of seeming hesitation. Then, there is the panic rush of retreat, until cove and creek 
are dry again, and strong swollen rivers are mere dribbling brooks. 

Following up the valley we find little towns and villages and hamlets, churches 
and schools ; richly cultivated fields, leagues after leagues of apple-trees ; orchards with 
trees old as the French regime ; orchards newly set out ; some apparently dying of age 
or from lack of care ; the great majority thrifty and doing well. No sooner is one of 
the great old farms subdivided by the father for the benefit of one or two sons than a 
new orchard is set out, even before a house or barn is built. The farms hug the sides 
of the steep hills, and some of the best fruit is raised on these sunny slopes. There 
are two periods of the year when this apple countrj" is peculiarly delightful, — in June, 
when the trees are red and white with blossom — snowy white and rose-red, full of 


/vc7fA'/:\()f7-: c.ix.i/ii. 

promisf for the fiitiiri' wliili- alfonlinjj ahiindant present delij^lu ; and aj^ain in SeptLin- 
l)er and ( )it()l)fr, wlu-n the linil)s are l.idcn w illi j^rcen, rnsset and ^1)1(1, - when the 
orchards laii<;h with almndance and thf air is literally fra^jrant with the aroin.i of ^^ra- 
vensteins and pippins uwA the nameless varieties in which the fruit j^rowers of this 
rej;ion take delight. .\p|)le < iiltnrc now is an important inthistr\' iu're ; and in prosper- 
ous years farmers realize rnan\' thonsands of ilollars as the fruit of tluMr toil. 

Uriil^fetoun, l.awrencetown, l'aradis<', Kin^fston, Middleton, are sleadily improving 
in appearance ami L;ro\vinn[ in po|)idati()n as tht; result of improved ajjricultiire and hor- 
ticulture. WiiAMi Si'Ki\(;s arc notcnvorthy for the health-j^ivinj,' (pialities of the water. 

The \'\i,i,i;v jiresents a lovely expanse of level country, between the 
North and South mountains. It has heen lary;ely rescueil from the sea and transformed 
into wondrously fertile territory. The Canard and the Cornwallis rivers, once navijjable 
streams, ha\(.' shrunk in their oozy beds into mere brooklets. The level u|)lands near 
the dikelands are occupied by miles and miles of "streets," with lonjj streams of hand- 
some, well-built houses, the homes of thrift) anil prosperous farmers. Sprinjf opens 
early, and summer linj^ers Ioul; in the sheltered villages ami secludtid hamlets of Corn- 
wallis. The South Mountain scret.-ns it from the foj^s and chill breezes of the Atlantic, 
and the North Mountain serves as a barrier at^ainst the still denser foi^s of the Bay of 
Fundy. One of the finest views of titer valley is to be enjoyed by climbinjr up North 
Mountain near its termination in Cape IMomidon. .\t your feet lie the little town of 
Canninj^ and the villajjt- of Pereaux. in front stretch lonjr lines of "streets" with 
orchards and farm-houses -churches risini^ here and there where population is thickest. 
Across the valley, miles southward, is Kkntvii.i.i;, nestlinj,' amonjf the brooks that rush 
down the gorj^es of the .South Mountain, a pretty and tiily town almost hidden from 
sight with its glorious i;ims, ciiestnuts, locust trees, willows, and a|)ple-orchards. Farther 
to the l(;ft, some eight miles, is Woi.i'Vii.Lii, another town famous for its elms and 
orchards, its white cottages, educational institutions, and its wealth of legendary and 
historic associations. I'retty clusters of houses dot the landscape far and near, while, as 
your eye turns eastward, the view embraces Grand Pre anl the whole scene of the cul- 
mination of the Acadian tragedy. How changed this valley vvithin the century ! There 
appears to be not a remnant of the old Acadians in a place once .so dear to them, 
and in which they battled so bravely with the sea. 

A favourite view of this lovely valley, with the Basin of Minas, is from Acadia 
College, which itself occupies a commanding site on rising ground at VVolfville, This 
view embraces the " Land of Evangeline," the spot which Longfellow's muse has con- 
secrated for all time. The Gk.\n» Pufc, which stretches between VVolfville and the 
Basin of Minas, was evidently redeemed from the waves. It is flat, perfectly monoto- 
nous, except when dotted with cocks of new-mown hay, or with great loads ready 
to be hauled to upland barns. Strongly-built dikes keep back the sea, except when 

xor.i SCOT/. I. 


tlu; Hay of I'limly has hvi'n lillcd to ovfirllowin;; l)y a mi>,'luy ^;al<'. 'riicn llif walcis 
overleap all barriers- old dikes anil iu;w to^;«'tlur, and tlu' lloodcd lands arc rendered 
infertile for a year or two. !!'i!)|(iiy tiiese jjreat invasions do not occm- frecjiientl) , not 
oftener than onci; in ten or twelve years. 

SiK!ciniens (if the j^cniiine old I'rencli dike are few, and hecominjjf tewer. The best 
sample is near " l,on>.( Island," which lies between Wolfville and Cajie Illoniidon, and 
which is an island no lonj,rer. One is still able to trace the foundations of the Acadian 
chapel at (irand Pre, 'I'iiere are ;,frass-j,frown hollows where cellars were; wont to be. 
Relics are picked up from time to time which itelonjfed to tlu; Acadian period. .Some- 
times coffins are disturbed by tlit! (ilou^di. I'^arthenware is also occasionally found which 
once dill duty on the tables of tin; ipii(;t but stubborn race that so persistently hated 
British ruU'. The most interestinj;, because the most certain, relics of the olden time 
are these lonir rows of willows, and these j^narlcd and mossy apple-trees. 

This district was st-ttled (;arly in the sevn ■ :ih century by immij^rants La 
Rochelle and its vicinity. Owinjf to tin; fertilit the soil and the almost complete 

exempli -i> from the rava<,res of war and the l)un ■ ' s of ta.xation, the people prospered 
j:rreatly. Th( y were on terms of perfect amity with the Indians. Their loyalty to 
France was as intense as their hatreil of I^nj,dand. Indeed the I-rench authorities took 
pains to cultivate their sympatliy. Hardly a war of any account was waj^^ed on this 
continent between France and I'.nj^land in which the Acadians failed to take part ; and 
they fou^du with the self-sacrificing ardor of the early crusaders. After the conquest 
of Nova Scotia and its permanent cession to Creat Britain, the Acadians refused over 
and over ayain to take the oath of allej^dance. Livinj,^ on British territory, they claimed 
to be " neutrals." Not only would they not take up arms for thi; Kinjjf of Great 
Britain ; they could not be trustetl to abstain from acts of hostility against him. They 
sent supplies to the I""rench at Louisburg, at I'"ort Beausejour, and elsewhere when 
supplies were sorely neetled at .Xiinajiolis and at Halifax. The\- were allowed the free 
exercis(; of their religion ; they were; not to l)e molested in person or property so long 
as they would consent to be subjects of the British crown. But it was here that their 
great difficulty lay. Distance in time and space had made old I'Vance dearer than ever 
to their hearts. Their collisions with the New England militia and other representa- 
tives of British power had only intensified their hatred of that power. They were in 
full sympathy with the Indian tribes in all parts of the country, and entered into their 
plans of offense against the British settlers and garrisons. 

Vicar-General La Loutre, who came to Acadia in 1740, was a man of indomitable 
perseverance and restless enterprise. He at once gained the confidence of the Acadians 
and the Indians; and his grand aim was to keep them in a united attitude against the 
English. He was in full sympathy with the feeling then universal in Quebec— intense 
loyalty to France, and a determination to promote F'rench interests wherever possible. 





He transgressed all bounds of priidi;nc(; in tiie measures which he devised and carried 
out. For example. Beaubassin, a pleasant and prosperous village of inhabitants, 
all I'Vcnch. was by his orders utterly deserted and then burnt, in order that it might 
not pass under British control I'his act will explain to some e.xtext the nirit which 
led to the "expulsion" of the i\catlians ti\e years later. La 1-outre's onlers were 
carried out with promptitude, for he had bands of Indians at his back who were glad 
to punish any disobedience. .Several years before the expulsion, the people of River 
Canard, Gram! Pre ar 1 Bizitpiid sent dejjuties to CJovernor Cornwallis asking leave to 
evacuate the Pro\ii' •, and intimating their determination not to sow their fields. 
Cornwallis answered them in the most conciliatory terms, ami in perfect good faith. 
He warned them against I, a Loutre, who had onlered the savages to cut off those thai 
should remain loyal to luigland. 1 le told them of the inevitable ruin which would 
come upon them should they i)ersist in ilisobeying their lawful king. They were now 
subjects of Great liritain. not of I'rance ; no one- could possess houses or lands in the 
Province who would not taki' tlu' oath of allegiance, and those who left the Province 
would have to lea\e ;'.'! their propert\- bt'hind them. In a few weeks tlejiuties from 
the same places appeared again before the Governor, asking permission to leave the 
Province. Cornwallis replied that whenever peace was restored he would furnish pass- 
ports to all who wished to go ; but at i)resent he refused, because the moment they 
stepped beyond the bonier the\- would be re(]uired to take up arms against Great 
Britain. He assureil them that their determination to remain in antagonism to Great 
Britain ga\e him great pain. lie praised their xirtues and their exemption from \ice. 
He added : " This Province is xour country ; you ami your fathers have cultivated it ; 
naturally you ought yourselves to enjtjy tlie fruits of \our labour. Such was the 
desire of the king, our master. \'ou kiuiw that we ha\e followed his orders. You 
know that we luue- done e\erything not oui% to st.'cure you th(! occupation of your 
lands, but the ownershi]) of them foreviT. We have given you also every possible 
assurance of the enjoyment of your religion, antl the free and [jublic exercise of the 
Roman Catholic faith." He pointed out to them the immense advantages dicy would 
have in the large markets would be opi'ued to them, and of which they would for 
many years have the monopoly, for they possessed the only cultivated lands in the 
Province. '-In short, we llattereil ourselves that we would make you the happiest 
people in the world." 

Cornwallis's successor, (iovernor liobson, was not more successful than Cornwallis 
in winning the .\cadians. I. a Loutre and his Indians had their affections and their 
fears as well. I')isaffection prevailed among them to such an extent that they refused 
to sell wood and provisions to the British soldiers stationed among them. The 
infection of disorder and discontent extendeil to the German colony in Lunenburg. 
Three hundred Acadians, refusing work at good wages at Halifax, and disregarding 

NO] -A SCOT/ A. 


the Government's orders, crossed over to Ueaiisfjour to work undc;r I -a I. outre. Here, 
then, \vt have the explanation of the ever memorable trairedy of 1 755. France and 
England were contendinij for supremacy in America, it was the death-grapple of giants. 
The Acadians for forty \cars had Ixn-n un- 
der British sway, yet refused to become 
citizens and availed themselves of every 
opportunity of promoting the interests, real 
or supposed, of I'Vance. They built lier 
forts ; they fed her soldiers ; the\- fought 
her battles. The British authorities knew 

'pis: ;3e*.»w ^<tr 


that a French conquest of .Acadia would lie hailed wiiii exultation by the Acadians 
throughout the whole territory. Leaking at the matter from the New F^ngland and 
British point of view, it is not to be wondered at tlecisive steps were taken. 
Harsh and deplorable as the measure was, it was war. It was a \nvxv. of public 
policy designed to ensure the possession of Nova .Scotia by Great Britain. It was one 
of the steps in the great drama of coiujuest in the New World. That the British 
were not moved by greed for the fair, rich lands of the .Acadians is abundantly proved 
by the fact that Grand Pre lay desolate- for five years after the expulsion, and that 
the other depopulated districts were some of them nine or ten years without a British 
settler. Seven thousand .Acadians were induced to leave ail they possessed in the 
rich old settlements of Acadia in order to be under the French flag. Their houses 



were either burnt l)y tlie Indians or allowcil to go to ruin ; and their fudds were left 
uncultivated. The sufferin<r caused by this voluntary migration was very great. The 
sacrifices made by the emigrants were incalculable. The fact that the Acadians pre- 
ferred such perils and deprivations to citizenship under the British tlag, enables us to 
view the " E.xpulsion of the Acadians" in its true light. 

During the spring and summer of 1735, the Acadians were required to give up 
their fire-arms. Symptoms of uneasiness and dissatisfaction were noticed among them. 
The commanding officer at I'ort Edward reported that they had acted towards him 
with " great insolence," leading him to believe that they had secret intelligence of an 
expected French invasion. I-'ifteen representatives of the y\cadians appeared in Halifa.x, 
on the 3rd July, before Ciovernor Lawrence and his council, when their faults, errors, 
true position, advantages and duties were fully explained to them. They were asked 
to take the oath of allegiance, but after much deliberation they declined. They were 
told that they would henceforth be regarded not as subjects of the British King, but 
of the King of France, and as such they would be treated. The council then resolved 
that the Acadians should be ordered to send new deputies to Halifax with their de- 
cision, whether they would take the oath or not ; and that none wlio refused to take it 
should be afterwards permitted to do so, but " that effectual measures should be taken 
to remove all such recusants out of the Province." This decision was convened to the 
delegates, who, becoming alarmed, offered to take the: oath. They were, howe\er, not 
permitted to do so, but were kept as prisoners on St. (ieorge's Island in Halifax har- 
bour. Governor Lawrence conferred with Admirals Boscawen and Mostyn, and both 
agreed with him that it was time the French should be retpiired to take the oath or t( 
leave the country. This was on the 14th July. On tlu; 25th July, deputies came from 
the F'rench in Annapolis, intimating their determination to take no "newoatli." Gover- 
nor Lawrence plainly intimated to them what would be the result. He asked them to 
reconsider the matter till Monday, for if once they refused the oath, they should ha\e 
no other opportunity of taking it. On Monday, July 2Sth, the full council met with the 
Acadian deputies, all of whom ma<le substantially the same report, — that they hatl 
already taken the (pialified oath of fidelity, and that they woukl take none other. The 
whole body of delegates were called before the council, and tiie case again carefulK' 
explained to them ; but they all peremptorily refused the oath. The Acadians knew 
what they were doing ; and the}' did it deliberateh". They riskixl all — and lost. 

The decision of the authorities was taken. ArrangeuK'Hts were nuule to remo\e 
the Acadians about the Isthmus, in what is now the county of Cumberland. The turn 
of those at Minas was to come nex'. ; and those in Annapolis and Yarmouth were to 
follow. Colonel W'inslow was in command at Minas. His instructions were to collect 
the people uud place them on board the transports wiilch the government would fur- 
nish. Two thousand persons were to be removed : \\\v. hundred to North Carolina ; 



one thousand to Virginia ; fivt^ luinclred to Maryland. They wcmx- to ho sent tlius far 
away, to prevent their easy return. One thousand were to he removed from An- 
napolis, and to be scattered thus — three hundred each to Philadelphia and C(jnnec- 
ticut, and two hundred each to New York and Boston. The reason ihev were not 

simijly sent o\er the border, was ex- 
plained b)- Governor Lawrence : " As 
their lunnbcrs amount to near seven 
thousand persons, the driving them off, 
with leave to jro whither they pleased, would doubtless have strengthened Canada with 
so considerable a number of inhabitants, and such as are able to bear arms must 
have been immediately employed in annoying this and tlie neighbouring colonies. To 
prevent such an inconvenience it was judged a necessary and the onl\' practicable 
measure to di\ide them among the colonies, where they may be of souk; use, as most 
of tliem are strong, healthy people, and they may become profitable and, it is possible, 
in time, faithful subjects." 

The effort to remove the Acadians from the istlimus, and what is now known as 
the New Brunswick side of the Bay, proved a total failure ; but a large number of 
their dwellings were destroyed. 


Around Minas Basin the deed was done secretly and thorotirrhly. On tlie 5th 
September, 1755, in olxidienre to tlic summons of Coloiu:! W'insiow, tlie people of 
Grand Pre, Minas, and River Canard. " hotli old men and vouul,'^ men and lads of ten 
jears of aj^e " assembled at tlie (irand Pre Churcli, "to hear what His Majesty had 
authorized him to communicate to them." At rtrst, four iiundred responded to the call. 
These were frankly told that in consequence of their refusal to take; the oath of allegi- 
ance, all their property, exct^pt their money and household t^oods, was forfeited to the 
crown, and the\' themselves were to l)e remoxed from the Provinces. Ihey were to 
remain prisoners till placed on board the vessels which were to ix';!- them away. 
F'amilies would be c()n\c\x:d t()L,^ether. About two lunulr(.'il were to be brought from 
Piziquid (now Windsor), and the total number to ix; embarked at (irand Pre amounted 
to I,y23 persons. 

On the 30th August, Winslow writes to the Lieut-Governor that the crops are 
down, but not housed on account of the weath(?r, — that the people- think the soldiers 
have coHK! to remain with them all winter. "Although it is a disagreeaiile dut)- we are 
put upon, I am sensible it is a necessary one." The soldiers, who were taken into 
confidence, had to swear an oath of secrec\-. On the 4th September, "all the people 
were quiet and very i)usy at their harvest." 

On the 5th .September, W'insiow was very bus\- from early dawn. Me ordered 
"the whole can p to lie u|)on their arms this day." "At 3 in the afternoon the 
French inhabitants appeared at the church at (irand Pre, 418 of their Ix^st men." 
Twenty of this Muml)er were allowed to go back to their fri(Mids at Canard and other 
places and tell them what had conu- to pass. Guards wert- doubled. Regulations were 
made to ensure the safety of the prisoners, antl, adds W'insiow, " Thus emled the 
memorable 5th of September, a da\ of great fatigu(; and trouble." Millers were allowed 
to keep their mills at work. The prisoners in t!ie church w(;re fetl by memi)t;rs of their 
own families. W'insiow ilid iiis work "without any accident to our own peo])Ie or to 
the inhai)itants. ' The officers had to f)e on the alert, for, \\t' are loKl, " The soldiers 
hate them [the Acadians | and if they can find a jn ence to kill them, they will." The 
women are report<;d to lunt; been remarkai)l\' cilm. almost indifferent. On the gth, an 
ominous stir being noticed among th(; prisoners, Coloni-l W'insiow resolved that fifty of 
the \'ounger men should be put aboard (.'ach of tlu; li\c transports in the bay and 
should ije under guard. The jjrisoners were drawn up six deep, the young men to the 
h.'ft. When ortlered to march to the vessels, they answered the\' would not go without 
their fathers. Winslow told tJiem that "No" was a word he did not understand, "for 
the king's command was .absolute antl should bt; .ibsoluteK olx'Ncd." He ordered the 
troops to fix bayonets and advance towards the prisoru-rs. He marked out 24 and 
ordered them to proceetl. He took hold of one "and bid march. He obeyed and the 
rest followed, though slowly, and went praying, singing and crying, being met by the 


/VOl'.l SCOTIA. 


women and ihililn-n all the \va\- (wliicli is one and a half miles) with nrreat lamentations, 
upon th' ;r knees prayinjr." "The ire hein},' broke," as Winslow puts it, it was easier 

IN THi: AN.NAl'Ul.lS \.\1.1.I.V 

to induce the rest to proceed. Two hun- 
dred and thirlN' were embarkeil that day. 
Winslow himself sjieaks ot it as a "scene 
of sorrow." The vessels dropped down 
stream. Provisions wen' carried on hoard by their frientls, ami as many visitors as the 
boats could carry were allowed to come and go. On the iith, twenty more were sent 
on board. There was a perioil of tedious anil anxious waiting, week after Aveek, until 
the wet, storm\- and chill October ilavs came, when tents were but |)oor protection for 



■ . .< the soldiers, and W'inslow was almost in 

despair. More transports were ordered, 
"'" and were expected, but they were des- 

perately behind time. Disasters here 
and there interfered with carefull\- ma- 
tured plans. Couriers and e.xpresses made the best speed they could between Halifa.x 
and Cornwallis and Cheignecto ; but bad roatls, rough seas, contrary winds, often 
causetl delays. The poor Acadians still thought that it was only a scheme to 
frighten them into taking the oath of allegiance. The longer the stay the less likely 
it seemed to then', that they were to be torn from the land they loved so well. On 
the 6th October, Colonel Winslow writes, with unconscious pathos: "Even now I could 
not persuade the people 1 was in earnest." On the 7th, 24 of the l-'rench young men 
made their esca[)e off two of the vessels — how, nobody coidd tell. On the 8th, 
Winslow tells us tiiat he began to embark the inhabitants, who went off very sidlenly 
and unwillingly, the women in great distress, carrying their children in their arms; 
others carr\ing their decrepit parents in their carts, and all their goods, moving in 
great confusion,— a scene of woe and distress." In course of a few days twenty-two 
of the twenty-four who had escaped out of the vessels came back. Two refusing to 
surrender had been killed liy the soldiers, On tlu; 27th the preparations for setting 
sail were completed : the I'iziquid contingent of about a thousand souls was combined 
with the |ieopl<^ from Cirani! Pre and Gasper^au. It is easier to imagine than to de- 
scribe the scene that must have been presented, as the nine transports, convoyed by a 

yV7>/'./ SL0I7.1. 


man-of-war, dropped down Minas Masin, out of sij^ht of tlic lovely Gaspcroaii Valley, 
ami the bold heailland of IMoiiiidnn, and Cape Split, and ail tin: islands and hills 
anil familiar shores of home and nali\(; land. More transports wen: needed, for 
VVinslow hail six liundretl Acadians on his hands, collected at River Canard and 
i'ereanx, and more ilistanl localities. Weeks lem;thened into months of weary waiting ; 
ami it was not till the 20th ol 1 )eceml)er tiiat " I'hiiis Osgood" was alle to report 
that "the last of \.\mi h'rench sailed tliis afternoon." 

'I'lu: whole nnmher of houses deslroxcd in liiis district, 255; barns, 276; mills, 11 ; 
church, I. Total people shippeil away, 2,242. ( )nl\- two ilealhs by \ iolenct; occurred. 
The force under W'inslow numijered 320. These; men were, with hartlly an e.xception, 
New Knglanders. No doubt Old I'jiij^laml approved of wiiat was done ; but tiie rtnnoval 
was devised and carried out l)y hard-heaik.'d New I'^nglanders. In Annapolis many 
escapeil to the woods ; but ultimately upwards of eleven hundred were |jlaced on board 
transports and sent awaj'. One of the vessels, havini^' 226 Acadians on board, was 
seized by them in the Hay of I'undy and taken into .St. John, whence they made good 
their escape. 

The vessels empUncxl in transportim; the Acadians ninnbered in all seventeen ; and 
the persons removed were aljoui tiirt^e thousand. These peace-losing ami gregarious 
people were scattered far ami wide among an alien race who were ignorant of their 

VAi.i.iv or ruE gasi'i:rkau. 

language and hated their religion. They were snatched away from scenes of loveliness 
and plenty to be flung as beggar;, upon the cold charity of people who wished to have 




ii i> 


nothing,' to do with tliem. It is estimated that at least two-thirds worked their way 
back, soiiu: in a few inoiitiis after tht-ir expulsion, some after an exih' of nearl\' fifl(*en 
years. Ht-fore tlie end of tlie century all th(; Acadians were reported as "wholly 
R itish subjects, ami entirely changed from their former stMitiments." The)- were 
"among' the most faithful and ha|ipy subjects of Mis Majestj." 

The expulsion of the Acadians was but an episode in a great epic of which the 
American continent and Western Euro|)e were the arena. I'rance and Kngland \v(Me 
contending for supremacy in the New World. The d(;stinies of unborn nations were 
involved. I'or Mngland the outlook in 1755 was dark (jnough. The shattered remains 
of Braddock's ill-fated ex[)edition were entering Philadelphia about the same time that 
VVinslow was gathering the .Acadians to the little chapel at Minas. The .sad Acadian 
episode is thus explainetl : we do not sa)' that it is justified. 

The story of KvaN(1I" has made tin: region classic. Longfellow had never 
visited Nova .Scotia ; anil his ideas of the topography of the Hasin of Minas wc.w. ob- 
tained at second-hand, but the pictin^e he ilraws is fairly accurate. 

The railway now |)asses through the Gr.ind I're, anil the (Irand Pre station is near 
the site of the historic cliapel. As a tribute to the s^rii/iis loci, the engines \w:a\' such 
names as " livangeline," " Benedict," " Basil," and " (iabriel." 

The Gaspereau River flows into the Minas Basin within easy sight of Graml Pre, 
It was at a point a short ilistancc uj) from its mouth that the trans|)orts received the 
weeping Acadians, and still a little farther inland they sought .^belter when the rough 
autumnal gales swept down upon the basin, churning its waters into spray. The tide 
rushes \\\> the Gaspereau with great force for four or fi\e miles. I'ollowing the river 
in its innumerable windings, you are led into th(! i)osom of the .South Mountain. 
Ridges rise high right and left, with space c;nough between to allow of a succession of 
prosperous farms on each side the river. There, sheltered from every stornn- wind, 
embosomed in orchards, stand the neat white cottages of a happy and |)eaceful peas- 
antry. The stream becomes mon; rapid and its banks more picturestpie as you ascend 
its course. Salmon pools al)ound. By and by the stream gracefidh' leaps some twenty 
feet down a ledge of rock. The fall is pretty, and when the river is full with spring 
or autumn rains, the music of it is borne upon the breeze for miles. The source of 
the river is a series of forest lakes near the height of land where the luisty Atlantic 
sends up its clouds to unburden themselves ere they spread their kindly shadows over 
the Cornwallis \'alley. Here, too, as far uj) as the fall, the feet of tin; .Acadians trod 
and their hands toiled. The trees they planted are growing still, the fields they 
cleared yield abundant crops, and the dikes they i)uilt resist the invailing tides. The 
traveller sees so much to attract attention along the usual routes, that he is apt to 
overlook the Gaspereau Valley ; but let him come here for a picture of rural comfort 
and beautv, — sheltered from the North and West winds bv the bleak ridtre of the 

Ivor. I SCO 77 A. 


Monii ()|- rill. (,Asri:KK,\r, and (ikami I'KK, 

Horton hills, and fidin the South and l-'ast l)y the loft\ forest-crowiicd ridocs of the 
South Mountain. 

The peace and loxclimiss of the present carries oiu; hacU hy way of tra.^ic contrast 
to that niorniiiL;' of I'l-hruary lo, 1747, when inuUrr cover of ilarkness and a furious 
snow-storm a hand of _;46 I'rtinchuKMi, pounciHl sudiltnily upon the KnijHsh iL^arrison of 
470 nu'ii quartered anioiiL^ the; houses yoiuK;r. The attacU was wholly unexpected. 
The linvjjlish were sleepiiit^ in fancietl security. Their assailants were completely suc- 
cessful, aiul tlie decimated Li^arrison aj^reed to march off to Annapolis Royal, leaving 
70 killed aiul 69 prisoniTs. The French lost only 7 or 8. Happily, battles, surprises, 
victories, e.xpatriations have Ion>j^ been unknown in these; valleys. The only strug- 
gles are with the forces of nature ; and all the victories are those of peace. 

The North Mountain is a mighty rampart of trap-rock, running all the way from 
Digby Gut to Capt; lilomidon, at an almost uniform elevation of 450 feet. The rough 
waters of the Hay of I'undy have been beating against this great barrier for unknown 
ages, and the results are many picturesque coves, bold bluffs, bleak headlands, beetling 
crags. Here and there, wherever convenient shelter offers, fishing hamlets cling to the 



y/c/rA'/.sor/i' c.i.\.i/>.i. 

cliffs or iicstlr ill the coves, oltcrin^ in tlu' holiest il.iys of siiinmiM-, retreats cool 
enough to satisfy one's ntniost wish for liracin^ hreezes. As llie tide rolls up, an>,;ry 
and brown, it cools the aii' which riNlns in with the tide at half a I'ale. 

IMoniiilon has been liai)|)ily conipared to the h.indle of a hiii^e walkinif-stick : the 
North Mountain Ijeint; the stick, and the end of the curved handle heiiii; Cape Split. 
From a distance it appears as if jnltini;' into the I! isin at a sharp an^le : hut the ex- 
plorer finds that it curves L;racelull_\' ilown Minas ihanm 1 till it leiininates in the curious 
pinnacles of Ca])e Split. The boldest part of liloniidon is a i^rand s.indstone cliff, 
about 500 feet hii^h, and ,1 quarter of a mile in leni^th. iarther on comes the 
tra|) rock, beetling' ami <lark, but relieved by occasional inteiini.Nture of Itri^ht red 
sandstone. Kittle rills tuml)le tlown here and there from the summit, and a constant 
course of ilisinteoration is ,!.;oin;^ on. bariher uIoul; the curse the hill is less steep. 
Land ami wati:r come to a kindlier nK'etinn'. The e.\|)lorei" steps ashoie and finds r;ire 
ferns, ant! rejoices, perhaps, in emeralds, abates, and amethysts. Indeed, iSlomidon e\ery 
sprinjr drops from his crown (or out of his lumierous pockets) man\ brit^ht and precious 
thincrs, the choice specimens falling' to the lot ol the e.irliest searchers. Gems from 
Mlomidon once sparkled in the crown ol brame; and it is (|uite likc'K' that nothing' 
more valuable was discoveicil in the si\teeuth centur\ than ma\' be stumbknl upon 
now, if you come aloiiLj sufficiently early after the frosts of winter and the storms 
of spring- have done their work. .\s you approach Cajn- .Split the tide bcHomes more 
rapid aiul there are eiKlies and whirlpools that demand careful seamanship. A I'ro- 
fessor of Acadia Collei^e, and two or tlin e companion^;, weic lo>t here some \ears at^o 
throu>j;h incautious sailing-. .Sudden L^usts often descend fioni the hills on both siiles 
of a narrow channel which runs between lllomidou and the I'arrsboro' shore. 

Great masses of clouds and of foj^- olien roll up this channel and oxer the summits 
of the mountain, carryiiij^- one back in ima^in.uioii to the periocl not \er\' ancient, 
geolotxicalK', w lien a luii^e xolcano was actixe here; when the air was darkeiietl with 
ashes and scori;e ; when tlu; Cobecpiid hills and the .South Mountain echoeil the 
thunder of volcanic explosions ; when mii^dity streams (jf lava flowetl westwartl, we can- 
not tell how man\' miles. X'olcanic action is plainly \Isible jjasl l)iL;by Neck, and in 
the beautiful basaltic cliffs of Uriar Island, Mountains <^rrow olil anil yield to decay, 
and Blomidon and tin: North Mountain an- no exce|)tioii to the rule. The face of that 
noblest of our sea-cliffs is deeply scarred ami furrowed by torrents. 'Hie frosts, meltino^ 
snows, and scourn'inii;^ rains loosen vast (piaiuilies of dcliris. which, tumlilini^^ to the base, 
the tides sweep awaw Yet the beauty of the Caj)e remains. " IIk; dark basaltic wall, 
crowned with thick woods, the terrace of am\ L;tlaloid, with a lu.vurianl i^rowth of light 
green shrubs and \oung trees that rapidly spring up in its rich and moist surface, the 
precipice of bright red sandstone, always clean and fresh and contrasting strongly with 
the trap above and with the trees and bushes that straggle tlown its sides and nod 

.vol I .Si 0/7. 1. 


over Its raxnu's, i-onslitiitc a com- 
l)inati()n of foi-ins and colours 
(jquallv strikiniLi;, if seen in the 
distaiici' from llif liills of ilor- 
ton, on till' shor(' of i'arrshoro', 
or more nearly from the s(.'a, or 
from tlic stony hcach at its base." 
'llu; best \i(:\v of C"a])(; Split 
is from Baxter's I larhoiir, about 

two miles ilistant. In tlu; foreground is a beautiful waterfall, some fort\' feet high, 
tumbling intcj a dee]), dark gorge, whieh is o\-erhung b)- iuige masses of trap-rock. 
Across the waters of the semi-circular bay the oddly isolated peaks of Cape Split rise 
out of the water, and if the water is still are mirrored on its surface. 


PK' riu<i.s{)Lii c AX. in A. 



We arc now, w-^ Indiiin h-j^'cnds tell, .uiiid tlit- scenes where ilie wDiulir-workinj; 
C.i.odM Ai', tile seiiii-(li\ ii)e Mediator of llie Miiinacs, displayed his power. lie was the 
Indian's friend, and always ready to Ixlj) tliose who would receixc his connscis. 
He was e.\alt(;d o\er peril, sickness and de.uh, and tin- i'n(!ni)' ol the uiayicians. 
Minas Hasin was his heaver pond, dammed np liy Hiomiilon and Cape .Split, which tiien 
(the lejrend says) stnitchi-d across le I'arrshoro' shore. As the dam was llootiinir 

tile witole valiev, ("dooscap swim.. >v o.irrier out of the way and pushed it into its 
present position. In his conllict with tiie ^-reat ii<Mver, he tlnnt; at him iuij,fe fraj^nu-nts 
of rock which liaxc hceii chani^cd into the I'ive Islands. .Spencer's Island is (dooscap's 
overtnrneil kettle. .Ml ihe .Acadian land was dear to hini. lie coid<l do wonders for 
tlu! people, pro\idin!4' ahnnd.inci' ot lisli and ,i,rame. The powers of e\il at one timi' 
came to overthrow his i;4;reat wiLjwam and put an end to his reii^ni. Hut lu; stmt a 
inijjhty storm, which ipienched their camp-lires. ;ind then a blttei' frost, which causi d 
them all to peiish in the forests. The wa\s of heasts and men hecominncv il, (dooscap 
was sorely vexed ; and, unai)le to endure them, Ik; must pass away. So he m.idt; a rich 
feast by the shore of the Minas Lake. .All the beasts came and partook of the feast 
and wlu;n it was o\-er, Ik; and his uncle, dreat Turtle, stepped into the canot; and went 
o\(r the lake sin,L;inL; a soni^r of '' ell as they wint towards the West. The beasts 

looked after them till they could hem no more, and listeni^d till th(; sini^inj; became 

faint and fainter and died away, I i.en a threat silentc fell upon all ; and the beasts, 
who till then ludd council together and spoke but one huii^uaj^'e, now lied and ne\cr 
met a^^^ain in peace. .\11 nature mourns, and will mourn till ('dooscap comes a^^ain to 
restore the golden at^e ami make men and animals live happily toLjether. The owl hid 
herself in the deep forest to repeat e\-ery nii^hl her mourniiii^ cry, and the loons, that 
had been Cdooscap's huntsmen, lly restli^ssly up and ilown the land seekinj;' their friend 
and wailinjj; sadl\' b(;cause they cannot find him. Accordinj^f to one lei^end, it was not 
till the luij,dish came that (ilooscap fmalK' turned his honnils into stone anil passed 
away. One stor\- tells how he travelled with majestic strides from Xewfoundland to 
Hlomidon. tluMice to Partridge Island, and thence to the unknown lands of the setting 
sun. His companions beint.; weary, he, with swift, stroni^ hand, built a causeway to 
make their journey easier, 

Leavin^r Wolfville, Morton, and the Ciaspereau \'alley, we reach Avonport, at the 
mouth of the broad and turbid Avon River. We next come to Hantsport. Passing 
the orchards of I'"almouth, we cross the Avon o\cr a louLf iron britl^c, and arri\(: at 
ship-building, ship-owning, gypsum-exporting' Winds(jr. Here Ilaliburton, the author of 
Sam Slick, was born, and here for a number of years he li\cil. Concerning the 
scenerx' he wTites : 

" He who travels on this continent and does not spend a few days on the shores 
of this beautiful and extraordinary basin may be said to ha\i; missed one of the great- 

A'OI'.I SC(y/7.l. 




csl attractions on this side of 

thf water. ' 

TIu' finest view of Windsor and tlic Avon is 

to lie liad fioni tlic ruinous old l'"ort ICdwartl, 

useful once for defense, hut loni.^ since a nu^ro 

reniiniscence oi the storms of a dead ceiUur\'. 

'Ilie Avon wlu-n the tide is out seems a hroad 

stripe of ilull red, marrino the landscape, with 

mi-rely a rill of fresh water windinjr threadlike throuijh it. It has 

l)(M'n described as a river that runs fust one way and then the 

other, and tiicn vanishes altotjether. The larj^e ships are left high 

dry, leaning against the wharves, in seeming helplessness. But wait an hour or 

See how the water rushes and pours in, hissing, foaming, eddying, boiling, 




till it rises alnidst h\ Ksips and IxhiiuIs to the; full luioht of the hanks ami dikes, and 
the vessels lloat easily upon its hosoni. KiNc's C(>i,i.i:(;i'., Windsor, was foinuled in 
1787, and is tluis the oldest coUej^e in Canada. It receiveil a ro)ai charter from 
George III. in 1802. 

Hast of Minas Uasin is foijeiiuid liay, which receives the waters of the Shuhenacadie 
River, alont^ whose course ran years ai_',o the " Siiriii',N.\( Aim-: Canal." This canal was 
one of the earliest enterprises of the kind in Canada. After costing tlie country, and 
several compa'-'t;s. many thousands sterling;, it [iroxt-il a total failure, and it is now a 
ruin. The river tlows tlirouL;h fi'riile meadows that imfailin,i;ly yield maj^nirtcent crops 
of hay. Tlie turhid tide of the Ha_\' of h'undy ius!'es iidand some twi-nty-livi: miles, 
makini; the ri- rr for sonu' distance navii;al)le 10 the lary^est ship.s. The tide here, in 
rapidity and height, is e(]ualleil nowhere else in the worUl. Ilence, na\ illation is e.\- 
tremcK' dangerous, and di'adl\- accidents were wont to hv starttin>jly numerous. Many 
spots aloni^ this river are " haunteii," and weinl stories of jrhosts, visions, apparitions, 
sudden perils and hairbreadtii escapes abound. MAiri and lies at the mouth of the 
river. Maitland ships, captains, ami crews are lieard of in e\ery si-a from tlu- South 
Pacific to tiu! iialtic. Many a pleasant home; that overlooks the rapid ebb and Mow 
of the Shubenacadie thrives on tin- W(;ll-earned wealth brou>;ht home from far off lands. 
Near Maillaml is a remarkai)le cavt'. '\'\\v mouth, is lar^e enoui^h to permit i'as\- en- 
trance, and the ca\e witlens as \ ou i^t) in, until its roof is from ten to twelve feet 
above your head, and tiie walls stand far enough apart to allow of a dozen men walk- 
ing' abreast. It has ne\-er i)een fully exploreil ; but it is at least a (piarter of a mile 
in e.xtent. The rock is pl.ister of Paris. 

les Maitland, sits prettiK' amid well-tilled fields, frat;rant 

ruro, a lew mi 


jrarclens, ncli orcnards, pensile elms, am! here am 

1 ll 


• roxcs ol everiireen. 


hori/on is 'ouiuled i)\- loiV' raiiijc's of hills, still clothed with iheir own hard wood 




y ]iret!y scenes an 

to be found in the vicinilw 

.V\)VY s 


tumbles a era'' some twelve feet, and forms as ('raceful 

a cascaile as the e\( 



coiikl wish to rest upon, 
meadows under branciiim 

The .Salmon R 

I ver 

and the North River llow ihrouijh fertiU 

willows aiul stateh elms. 


ireiior, m lus 

imerica, Uescnijes 

ruro as 



\v most heaulilul \illa'fe in 


)v I Scotia, am 

as far 

as m\ impressions sid, the linest I h; 

i\(' seen m 




us piac 

e, like C 


had bt'en settled by .Acad 
sors come to possess tl 


but the\- were removeil. Not li 

I ;()! ihd tlieir succes- 

\v. ru 

h I 

d tl 

ami tluir tiesreiu 

l.mts. fr 




rom .New llampshire, who respomh i 

hey were; mam 

y North of Ireland peojile 
d to the Proclamation of 

Govt rnor l.awreiu:e in\itin<j- immi'' rants to fill the blank caused b\- the expatriation ( 


the P'rench. In a \cry few years the settle-rs had their church and school, their parson 

and school-master, a 

nd 1 

ruro has continui'il to be one of the educational centres o 

f th 



IS now an impoitant iMihvay centn; 


a hundred vears a^o there 

A'Or.l SCOT/. I. 


was only a hritUr-track to Halifax. Aiuonc; tin? first st-ttKn's \v(mt four hrolhcrs, Archi- 
balds, from wiioin all the Archibalds in Nova Scotia and many in tlur other I'rovinces 
and the Unittnl States arc dcsccmled. Daviil Archibald, the tirst Irnro niajjistrate, 
was wont not only to ,)ass sentence, but to execute punishment with his own hands. 
Two boys who were captured by him in the act of stealintj apples on Sunday were 
imprisoned in his cellar, anil on Moiulay were tied to the trt-e wliich they IkkI robbi^d, 
anil there caned ! 

Skirtinir the head of the bay, one sees in every creek and yully the work of the 
Bay of Fundy tide. A wide extent of dike-lands, redeemed from the sea by the 
Acadians, is still as fertile as ever. At Masstown — where there is now no town — there 
stood the larj^-est chapel the l''rench owneil in Acadia. It was visilile from all siiles of 
Cobeqiiid Hay, and here the people came to mass from <;reat ilistances. Ilence the 
name of the place. No vestige of the chapel remains. Tlu; ilikes, the poplar, the 
apple-tree, and the willow are the sole- remembrances of the Acadians. We an; now 
within easy reach of one of the most stirrin_^ hives of imlustry in all Canada. Two 
mountain streams cleave their wa\- tin'ou_<;h the Cobetpiid hills, or wind arouml their 
rough spurs, and unite; tli(;ir waters just after passing through ileep and gloomy gorges. 
At the junction, the Acadia Minks are situated. The village is built on more than 
seven hills — on a small sea of hills ami it is out of the bosom of the hills that the 
ore is extracted which gives work to so many hundreil hands. The spot, irrespective 
of the iron works, is i)icturcsque in a high degree. Viiv off southward are the gleam- 
ing waters of the bay, and beyond are tlu' blue hills of ilanls County; north, east, 
west, are the Cobequid hills, with their goodly crown of forest, their deep, dark gorges, 
their hurrying streams. The town is built without the; slightest regard to symmetry. 
There are two imnuMise blast furnaces, heateil, throbbing, angrih' shrieking— ilisgorg- 
ing great streams of moltt'ii metal which, in the sand-nn)ulds. is formed into pig 
iron. The heat of a furnace: lillcd with molten ore cannot l)e much if al all short 
of 1,100 degrees l-'ahrenheit. Two furnaces are kept continually at work, the smoke 
of their burning rising day and night in the heart of the town. A railway is con- 
structeil upon which the ovv is tarried from the mine; some four or live miles away. 
I'hese mini's are not so deep, dark, ami dirty as onlinary coal mines. Cornishmen, 
No\a .Scotians, Swedes, Irishmen, and Scotchmen emerge with their facets painted with 
red and yellow ore, ami with a keen ap|)etite for ilinner after half a da\'s work. 
Seldom is there aught !)ut peace and good will among the toilers underground, or 
around these raging fuinai<s ; but at no time do they appear belter natured or to 
greater advantage than wlu-n hurrying in friendly groups to their m-jals. Hesides the 
blast furnac(^s there arc long ranges of coke ovens, and iron works where the "pig" 
is transformed into bars, sheets, wheels, axles, and all sorts of articles in this line. In 
dark nights the village has the appearance of an active volcano. At stated periods 



the lava-streams of "slag" and iron pour forth liquid and fluent as water. ' Ghostly 
lanes of light issue out from every opening of the great structure surrounding the 
furnaces, and there is the constant clank and crash of machinery and the mighty 

roaring, full of repressed fury, of the fiuMiace fires. A hun- 
dred and fifty thousand tons of coal are annually consumed. 
The furnaces can easily manage seventy thousand tons of ore. 
These works will be to Canada what the Krupp works at 
Essen are to Germany, or those at Creuset to France. They 
will grow as the Dominion crrows. 
'^ Great Village, in the vicinity of Acadia Mines, is a cod- 

bridges AT WINDSOR. 

venient starting point for explo- 
ration on the north of Basin of 
Minas, where the scenery is often 
grand and always beautiful. You 
watch the swelling tides of the 
bay ; you note the successful efforts of human enter- 
prise to bridle the angry wateis and to redeem thou- 
sands of acres from their sway. As you travel past 

Parrsborough and the classic cliffs of Cap d'Or, westward and northward, you come 
to the Joggins, a scene of petrified forests dear to the heart of the geologist. It is a 
spot where the process of world-making, past and present, may be studied to good 
effect. Coal is found ; and there are submerged forests, trees standing as they stood 
when still growing, but now turned to stone. The tide beating against the coast 
wastes away these rocks as well as all else that comes within its reach. Farther 
up the Cheignecto Bay are to be found forests below the present sea-level and not 



yet turned into stone, but evidently sinking slowly as those other older forests sank 
ages long ago. 

Following up Cumberland Basin, we come into the region of rich marsh-land, 
dikes, great herds of cattle, vast expanse of meadow dotted here and there with ham- 
lets and villages. The dike-lands of Nova Scotia cover nearly 40,000 acres, and addi- 
tions are made from year to year. The largest share of these fertile acres is under 
the spectator's eye as he gazes over the Tantramar Marsh, an inexhaustible mine of 
wealth to the agriculturists around. Here are visible a few vestiges of the war- 
period — Fort Lawrence and P'ort Cumberland, the scenes of the last struggles between 
nationalities which now dwell together in peace under the folds of the British and 
Canadian flags. The passions of 1755 are as obsolete as these forts and this old 
rusty cannon. The town of Amherst is a pleasant little hive of human life. From its 
hillside it looks abroad on as fair a rural scene as Canada anywhere presents — marshes, 
meadows, orchards, sloping uplands, dark belts of forest. 

The Cobequid range runs through Cumberland, Colchester, and Pictou counties, a 
length of over a hundred miles. The hills vary from 400 to 1,000 feet in height. 
From the summit of Sugar Loaf, at Westchester, we can see at the same time the 
Bay of Fundy and the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and portions of the three Provinces of 
New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and P. E. Island. Embosomed among these iiills are 
many beautiful lakelets, from a few rods to five miles in length, usually abounding in 
sa'mon trout. Following the Cobequid range eastward, we look down upon sunny val- 
leys, fertile fields, great breadths of forest, towns like Pugwash, Wallace, Tatamagouche, 
and River John, all bordering on Northumberland Straits, and all largely given 
to ship-building and the lumber-trade. At last we come upon Pictou harbour, a 
singularly well sheltered, land-locked, quiet sheet of water. The land slopes upward 
somewhat steeply from the shore, until it reaches bald and bold summits at Frazer's 
Mountain, Greenhill, l""itzpatrick's Mountain, and Mount Thom. The harbour receives 
into its bosom the West, the Middle, and the East rivers. The valleys through which 
these rivers flow are thickly settled with prosperous farmers. The uplands and hillsides 
have been bravely attacked, and in most cases compelled to jield an honest livelihood. 
In summer Pictou harbour is enlivened by the presence of vessels and steamers from 
many ports. In winter it is thickly sealed with ice and gaj' with the sports of skaters. 
curlers, and sleighing-parties. Scenes of great beauty are presented to the eye as one 
ascends the Pictou hills — scenes in wliich field and forest, hill and valley, river and shore, 
and shining sea appear in well-ordered array. The sky southward from the town is 
often blurred with the smoke that ascends continually from the coal mines in the ili.s- 
tance. Pictou harbour is by far the best on the northern coast of Nova Scotia. Its 
only drawback is that it is frost-bound for four months in the year. The rivers are 
not large, but some of them present scenery of the loveliest character. The East River 




for many miles flows through a valley picturesque as the Trossachs. Sutherland's, Barney's, 
and West rivers have their claims on the tourist's attention. The sportsman loves their 
banks and often traces them far up among the hills to the lonely loch or mountain tarn 
whence they begin their course. 

The name Picrou is of Indian 'igin. Its meaning is uncertain. Fishermen from 
old France found their way here e.i..\ m the 16th century and were delighted with the 
abundance of fish and game of all kinds, from the oyster to the seal and walrus, from 
the otter to the moose. Monsieur Denys, Governor of the Gulf of St. Lawrence some 
240 years ago, speaks of " oysters larger than a shoe and nearly the same shape, and 
they are all very fat and of good taste." The Micmac Indians, a branch of the Algon- 
quin race, held dominion at one time from Virginia to Labrador. The\' occupied Nova 
Scotia, Cape Breton, ]', E. Island, and a large part of New Brunswick. Pictou was the 
centre of their power. Fierce battles were fought between them and the Mohawks, the 
latter fierce invaders from the west. Battlefields have been discovered, presenting 
proofs of war's deadly work — human bones, broken skulls, stone axes, Hint arrow heads, 
spear heads, and other implements. Though these wars are centuries old, the Micmacs 
still remember with terror the invasions of the Mohawks and have a superstitious dread 
of the very name. 

The French made no permanent or effective settlement in Pictou ; but some relics 
of their temporary visit remain — some rust-eaten guns, some well-tempered swords, a 
few human skeletons. 

Attempts at settling Pictou were made by the British between 1765 and 1773. 
Immense tracts of lam! were granted to speculators on conditions generally easy and 
reasonable. Benjamin Franklin was interested in the Philadelphia Company which, on 
the loth of June, 1767, actually effected the first feeble settlement, consisting of twelve 
heads of families, twenty children, one convict servant, and perhaps one or two coloured 
slaves. These came by sea from Philadelphia, and were met shortly after their arrival 
in Pictou by five or six young men from Truro to afford some help in beginning their 
campaign. " The prospect wa.> dreary enough. An unbroken forest covered the whole 
surface of the country to the water's edge. What is now the lower part of the town 
was then an alder swamp. All around stood the mighty monarchs of the wood in their 
primeval grandeur, the evergreens spreading a sombre covering over the plains and up the 
hills, relieved by the lighter shade of the deciduous trees, with here and there some tall 
spruce rising like a minaret or spire above its fellows." The white pines, in great 
numbers, reared their tasselled heads 150 or 200 feet. 

This little band of Philadelphians were the only English settlers on the coast for 
a distance of some two hundred miles. They had expected to find here dike-lands 
similar to those which had previously attracted settlers to Grand Pre and other dis- 
tricts on the Bay of Fundy ; but in this they were bitterly disappointed, and felt 

M)i:i SCOT/ A. 



borne them thitli(!r 


tlu'iiisfivcs in utter exile. Most of them were 
eayer to return in the? little Hope, wliich had 
but the Captain slippc^d away in the night, leaving- them to battle 
for life as best they couhl. 

The settlers of lo liay in the western prairie, or in the backwoods of the older 
Provinces, may well l(;arn courage from the experience of these Pictou pioneers. 
During the first \'ear the\' li\ed chiefly on tlsh and game. In the spring those who 
were able walked through the patliless woods to Truro, a distance of forty miles, and 
returned each with a bag of se('d-()otatoes on his back. The crop was good, but not 
large, as the\' had not betMi able to clear nuicii ground. The second winter also was 
one of severe privation, and -n tiic spring the\- had to go again to Truro for seed. 
Cutting out the eyes of tlu; potatoes, they were jible to carry much larger quantites, 
and they succeethid in raising enough for their wintcM's supply. 

On the 15th l)(!cember, 177;,, thir ship Hector, with iSg Highland emigrants on 
board, nrrived. The voj-age hail been long and dreary ; supplies fell short, and a number 
of women and children died of smallpox and dysentery. Till the Highlanders arrived 


picrrREsouE cax. i/hi. 

the Indians had Ixcn troiihlesonu-. They were now told that men hkc thost; who liad 
taken Quebec were at liantl. When thoy saw thi; Ilijililand rostiiincs and iicard the 
bagpipes, they lied for a time to tiie forests, and ne\ir s^axc farther trouble. The 
arrival of the J/rdor mari^ed an epocli in tlie settienieiit of Canaila. The stream of 
Hiijiilanil immi,nr,'Uion |)()ured into I'ictou, Cape I?reton, Prince lulward Ishiiul, New 
Brunswick, and i)oitions of the Upper Provinces. The newly arrivetl Highlanders suffered 
incredible hanlships for the first nine or ten years. l*atiently, sturdily they strui^jijlcd 
with difficulties from which the bravest miyht well shrink. The)- hatl to tra\el throui^h 
the wooils forty miles to carry potatoes and other provisions on tiieir backs for their 
wives and little chiklren. One bushel of potatoes was loati enough for a man. 
He hail to spend tiiree ila\ s on the road. Streams had to be forili!d, stiff braes to be 
climbed, steep banks to be desceiuK'd, storms of snow and rain to be encountered. 
Sometimes the potatoes woukl freeze on the burdened back. After the thiril year they 
were able to seciu'e at least the necessarit's of life without the terrible piljrrimajjfes to 
'Iruro. In 1775 their poverty was ai,rora\ate(.l by the arrival of a <;roup of Scotch 
families that had been literally starved out of P. IC. Island by the ticvastations of a 
plague of mice. Tiie Highlanders, true to their character, welcometl the starving 
strangers, and shared with them to the last morsel. 

The War of Independence was felt, the tlrst .settU'rs sym|)athizing very decidedly 
with tl (,' Thirteen Colonies, while the recentlv arrived Highlanders were intenselv loval. 
The result was that the disloyal element was gradually crowdeil out. Slaves were 
owned in Pictou. Matthew Harris sold Abram, a negro boy, to Matthew Archibald, 
of Truro, for the sum of fifty pouiuls. This transaction occurred in 1779. In the 
records of Pictou, in date i 7S'), we have a document duly attested, signetl, sealed, and 
delivered, testifying for the information of " all men " that Archibakl Allardice sold to 
Dr. [ohn ilarris "one negro man named Sambo, agetl twenty-live \ears, or thereabouts, 
and also one brown mare and her coll, now sucking, to have and to hold as his pro- 
perty," as security for a debt of fort\' pounds. Slavery ditl not live long in Xova 
Scotia ; nor is thert' on record ;i ck'ctl of cruelt\' to a slave in Pictou 

\'aluablc additions to the poptilation were made shortly after the close of the 
American war, Scottish regiments which w(>re disbanded on this side the water having 
large grants of Ian 1 assigned to them. Many of the descendants of Highland veterans 
still flourish in this county and .\ntigonish. In 1786 there was immigration direct 
from .Scotlaiul, and this movement continued and increased in subsequent years, 
the county becoming dominantlv .Scotch, llighlaiul anil Presbyterian. It was in thi.-^ 
year that the Kev. James MacGregor arrived and began his missionary labours. The 
young minister (afterward well known as i )r. MacGregor) travelled from Halifa.\ 
on horseback. I'rom Halifax to Truro the road but a rough bridle-track ; from 
Truro to Pictou there was but a " blaze." a mark on trees, along the line that 



was to l)c travelled. On iiis arrival at I'iilou town there were hut few bniklini^s, and 
the woods (^\tende(l to tiie water's edt^c. On tile 2,^rd of July his first sermon was 
preached in a liarn. in i -S7 tlie first two < hiirrhes were i)uilt in the coiintx-. The 
minister, abhorrini; slavery, was resolved to pnl an i.-\\A to it in l'ii:tou. lie diti so by 


■■■fi ■■•itj'^,;A-rr> ;v 



paying fifty pounds to Harris, the owner of a young mulatto girl, "Die Mingo" — twenty 
pounds the first year, aiul the balance in course of the two succeeding years. Mis 
stipend was twenty-seven pounds ! 

The town was commenced on its present site in 1788. After a feeble beginning 
it grew rapidl)-, and was particularK' prosperous ciuring the Bonapartist wars. A vigour- 
ous lumber-trade centred here ; prices were exorbitant ; the demand was greater than 
the suppl)- ; money was plentiful, and there was no thought of the days of adversit)'. 
In 1820 came a relapse — a collaj)se — which was, however, partially redeemed by the coal- 
trade, which commenced with considerable vigour in 1S30. Other towns have sprung 
up in the county, whicii are likely to outstrip in population the old shire-town ; but 
Pictou is a well-ordered, well-educated, wealthy place, of about 4,000 inhabitants. Its 
Academy was one of the first, as it has been one of the best, educational institutions 
in Nova Scotia. 

For amenity of situation Pictou cannot easily be surpassed. On the side of a 


p/crcR/'Sor/' c.ix.i/\i. 

gently risins; Iiill, it comniand^ ,1 view <>l llu" lovely basin in whose bosom it is 
mirrored with majjfical distinctness whenever the winds are still. No foi; ever dims tiie 
air, which is cool and bracin<^, even in the heal of snmmer ; and in winter you 
may alwa\s count on snow enough to make travelliiiL^ b\' sleii^h practicable. The 
weather is n.uch less ciiaui^eful than aloni( the .Atlantic coast. Tiie roads leailinjj to 
the town are good, and the favourite drives leail to scenes hij^hly picturesque. 
I'ictoii has its banks, court house, public schools, churches, and ele<jant private 
dwelling-houses. Besides all these, it has (what is not supposed to be .dwolutely essen- 
tial to the happiness of a modern community) a haunted house. ballen chimneys, 
broken windows, decaying free-stone pillars, doors ajar on rusty hinges, weed-grown 
garden walks, fence's i)roken down — the wholt; surrountllngs tleclare " this place is 
haunteil." It was once a scene of activity, ent;rgy, gayet\', and wealth. The owner 
was thi; " King" of the coiintry-siile for a s])ac(' of three hundred miles. Enterprising, 
industrious, vigilant, generous, kind-hearted, lu; succeeded in all his undertakings, lulward 
Mortimer died at the age of fifty-two, worth, it was supposed, half a million dollars. 
The hard times and terrible revulsions of 1S20 and succeeding years dissipated his 
estate so that nothing but a \i'ry modest jointure was left for his widow. The house 
in which he lived has long be<-n tU'solate, and his wealth has \anished, but his name 
is held in grateful remembrance. 

New Glasgow is a rapidly rising town on tin- Kast Ri\er of Pictou, near the great 
coal-mining district. Heretofore it has bec-n noted for its ship-building; but it is now 
engaging in other industries — iron-works, steel-works, glass-works. Iron ami steel ship- 
buililing may be developed here when tlu; timl)er su|)|)lies are exhausted. The Ivast 
River, before reaching the town, becomes a tiilal stream, and loses its mountain force 
and purity. 

Before leaving Pictou we must mention the " \c:w of the Mice." Curiously enough, 
there are on niconl several \'isitalions of the mice plague in 1'. I'".. Ishuul ; but we know 
of only one such in Nova Scotia. This was in 1S15. The mice came, no om; knows 
whence. Their number was so vast that it was as impossible to check their ravages 
as it would be to briiUe the locusts of the I^ast. The) devoured the seed-grain in the 
fields. They ate the se(;d-i)otatoes. They destroyed the growing crops. Their march 
was toward the seashore, wlu^re they perished in heaps and lay like lines of seaweed. 

A\iic;o.\isn is |)ronounced th(,' |irettiest \illage in eastern Nova Scotia. It is a 
pearl set in the green of rich fields and meadows. The white dwellings gleam out 
cosily from among the overshadowing trees and the surrounding shrubberv'. A river 
from the far oil (iuysl)oro hills winds its way by church, and mill, and tidy hamlet, 
and pastoral scenes of extjuisite loveliness. Tlu; crags of Arisaig at no great distance 
tell the story of the earth's geologic eras with marvellous distinctness, and hence arc 
precious in the sight of the geologists of the Old World and the New. Not far oft 

NO I '.I SCOT/.i. 


inland is i\\v. heaiitifiil Lo(lial)C'i- I^akc, its l)anks ovcrsliadoweil l)y maples, Ix'cchcs, and 
L-lms. When artamc with tlu' tints of autumn, and tiie lake' rullccls tlu; ^rvxm ami jjjolil. 
till' beauty is redoubled. St. Ninian's Cathedral, Aniijjonish, the seat of the Hishop of 
Arichat, is one of the most commodious ecclesiastical structures in the Maritime Pro- 

Wife'' ■?^- ;■-.-;.■ '.--y.;''}.'- . 



To one visiting tlie Dominion from tiie Straits of Belle-isle. Cape Breton is the 
advance cruard and promise of Canada ; and, in e\ery sense. Cape Breton is worthy to 
stand as a sentinel in the oreat j^ate of the St. Lawrence. It has riches in coal and 
minerals complementar\- to the bountiful harvests of the fertile West. Its cliffs and 
capes and the Bras d'Or arc trermane to Niagara antl the St. Lawrence ; and the 
traditions of Louisburjr should kindle the imaj^ination of the Canadian to as bright a 
heat as those which glorify Quebec. 

We cannot approach this island more favourably than by the way most convenient 
to the people of more western Canada. The passenger by the railway catches 
glimpses of the broad e.vpanse of St. George's Bay, with the Cape Breton shore 


PIC TURliSQ i li L A i\A DA . 


lyiiiij l!k(^ a cloud on llie horizon. He sees over deep J^orj^es the wooded back of 
Cape Porcupine, and soon \>y a steep incline the train ilescenils to the level of the 
Strait of Canso, a magnificent natural canal fifteen miles lon>,^ by a mile aiul mort; 
in width, which separates the island from the mainland. 

Indian legends tell how llu; Divine (jlooscap was stopped in his mission to New- 
foundland by the waters of this strait. Not to be balked, he summoned a whale, which 
bore iiim safely across. The problem at present agitating th(- Cape Hreton mind is 
how to get the railway across — how to lead the iron horse through these sheltered val- 
leys and under thesi; towering hills, and across these streams and straits, to .St. Anne's, 
or Cape North, or Louisburg. A swift ocean ferry will bear mails and passengers 
thence to the west coast of Newfoundland. Traversing that island by rail, the longer 
ferry from eastern Newfoundland to Ireland will be crossed in three or four davs. 

A'(U'.I SCOT/. I. 


Thus ii is hoped tliai mails ami passengers will be borne from coiitimni lo continent 
in less than a wct-k, 

At early morninj,' we take; a steamer down the Strait, which even within its nar- 
row hoimilaries seems to possess somethinjf of the dii^nity of the sea. The sun ris«!S 
over Cape Hreton and bathes the slopinj,' shores of the Strait, At Hear Island the 
steamer turns to the left, ihrou^di I,(;nnox I'assajfe between Cape Mrelon and Isle 
Madame, where there still survives a small colony of I'"rench lishermen. I.<>n^' vistas 
open up seaward l)etw(!e!i the islands, ami \\v. catch glimpses between the shores of 
bays which reach far inland. 

The primeval forces which maile for the lakes of the Bras d'Or a hvA of irrej^ular 
and fantastic outline, left at St. Peter's a narrow isthmus throu<;ii which a canal has 
been cut, liy which the steamer reaches the Mras d'( )r. Here, about i();,n. Ilrst of white 
men, the Sieni- 1 )enys sc'ttled, a braxe and pushini:; pioneer, with his tishinj^ stations in 
Nova Scotia and the Bay of Chaleurs, reaily to defend his rij^hts ai^ainst all comers. 
In journeys between his two Cape; Breton stations, .St. Peter's and .St. .\nne's, \u\ must 
have traversed the Bras d'Or, and, perchance, less than any c.xplonM- of this continent 
would he lind changes in tiie country with whicli he was once familiar. The iiillsidcs 
have been somewhat cleared, there are houses and a hi h about the lovely little 
lacfoon at Christmas Island, a villa;;!! ami a .settled countryside; at Baddeck, and late 
harvests riptin on Boularderie Island. North of the Bras d'Or are mountain ranj;es 
encirclin}.r lal--"'-, and divided by rivers, tlu; valleys of which are sheltereil and fertile. 
Beyond thesi; attain is a dreary tablelartd, ami within seviMity-l'nc; miles (<f Newfound- 
land Cape North stands in siliMit jrrandeur ai)<)ve the surges where mingle the cur- 
rents of the guif with the waves of the Atlantic. 

To those whose; taste is robust, tlu; Bras il'Or presents a succession of delights. 
The shores rise here into gently swelling hills, farther on into forest-covered mountain 
crags. In the pellucid waters are jelly-fish of tints so e.xtiuisite that the name; of an\- 
colour seems too crmle to describe their hues. The outlook at one time e.\|)ands 
over a wide lake, at anothc-r the steamer follows a silver threail through the .Strait 
of Barra. Long arms extend beyond sight to within a f(;w miles of the .Strait of 
Canso on one side ; on the other, even nearer to tlu; waters of .Sydney harbour. 

The atmosphere is not that of inland landscajies wiiich gives haril outlines and 
harsh colours. It has the clearnes, not of vacuity, but of some exquisitely pure; licpiid ; 
an:l blending outlines and colours save the; wilder regions from savage roughness, and 
throw a softness over all which adds infinitely to its charm. 

One is surprised to find that a long morning has been spent without fatigue before 
the steamer passes through the wider of the two passages which, on either side of 
Boularderie Island, connect the lake with the Atlantic. To the north stretch the 
precipitous shores where Smoky Cap(; in the distance wears above its purple steeps 



I'lc irRi-.sori-. CIS. IDA. 

the halo of vapour wliich sii),f),fcstc(l its name On \.\\v liL^lit li.nxl ilic sea lias wronj^iu 
an isolated rock into the scnil)lancc ol ,i liiiv,^: iimiIc, ami farllicr on a lonj,' point of 
rock has been undcrniincd in twd places l)y the snrj^cs. lis lurl-coMTcd point and tin; 
next hcach, in shape like a sti'cp-nxilVd warehouse, stand isolated and i^aunt until in 
time they, too, will suicunib. i'lien .dler some nienior.ilile L,'al<! the point will disappear, 
and in its plat<; ".ill remain a lon^ and ilan^erous reef. 

The iiarhour of Svdney. -.lieltered, commodious, and of easy lucess, is of no mean 
maritime \alue. 1 )urinL; tin- season of na\i,Ljalion steamers on thi' \oyajfe to luirope 
from the more southern ports of the I'nited States, and from the St. .Lawrence, call 
for hunker coals ami lie clusK'red ahout the colliery wharves which railroads connect 
with tile mines in tin- interior. W'itli these art; soni<' of the ma;i\- steamers eniL;a!;eil in 
carrvin;.; coal to Montreal, and humhlcr craft which supply tlii' m :irer and less impor- 
tant markets. The mine on the shores of .Sydney harhonr has i^ ad\ant.i},res over 
the e.xposed outports in which ncsscIs taki; in cari^o. Many lisliini^ and trading schoon- 
ers lie off the new and more active town of North .Sydney, while the frecpient \isits of 
French and Hi'itish men-of-war !,m\c dii^niiy to the older town. 

The harl'our divides into two threat arms, and on a peninsula which marks the 
entrance to the .Southwest arm st.inds the town of Sydney, which was, before the 
union of Cape Hreton and X'ova .Scotia, the seat ol <;overnment. .\t the vwA of the 
peninsula are the remains of earthworks and dilapidated and dreary cpiarters for the 
garrison which was stationed here until the Crimean War. ( )iii(r traces of departed 
glories are to be found only in the tradition?; of the inhabitants. 'I'heir .splendours 
have not taken more concrete shape. 

Hut .Sydnc)' at an earlier ilav than that of its possession b)' the British has seen 
stirriiiL;- scenes. I''n:nch ami British lleets liavi; maile its harbour a rendezvous, not, as 
now, in peace, but as a point of vantagtt in their struyt^le for the; continent. .Some- 
where on its shores, Admiral llovcmden Walker, reiurninn from his unsuccessful attempt 
against Quebec, set up a board made li\ his siiip' carpenit \ cl.iiining the island for 
his master. But two great sieLri j|t in \ ict ay before it iu'came British. 

The old name of .Sydn' ^ .Sp.i le from a time when, although the fishing 

grounds were neutral, en itionalities ri:sorted to diflerent Iiarboiirs, 

so that the occasions of indlin- . the \ew World the animosities which made Europe 
a battlefield might, as much as possii)le, be avouled. The Spaniards came then to 
Sydney, the iM-ench to .St. Aniit , whili- bJiglish port, 'he name of I.ouisburg l)efore it 
became a French stronghold, shows that it had bee ihi chosen resort of luiglish 
fishermen. None of these nations laiil claim to t' -laml ; there wen; no l.iws, and 
justice depended on a consensus of opinion anions; ugh captains of vessels able to 

enforce it. The customs which grew up under this ndition of affairs, and the value 
of this neutrality, are fully described in Mr. Brown's History of Cape Breton." 

f^Ol'A SCOT/ A. 


Louisbiirj; is tlic place in tiapc Hi'dnii ahoiit wliicli art- collected most historic 
memories and traditions. 

Otiier places in liic Dominion Iiavi- the dignity which attaches to the scene of 
^reat deeiis ; hut in must of them the claims of the present on the attention of the 


visitor are insistent. '! he coiiimercial iiiarini' which lies in the stream at Oueboc, 
and the hustle of a moilern town, draw us away from the memories of Champlain 
and I'rontenac, of Wolfe and Montcalm. It is yet mon; ditVicult to realize on the 
Champs de Mars of Montreal that there have been paraded the armies of l''rance, of 
Britain, ami of the I'niietl States. But when one looks (ncr Louisburg, he sees only 
a few scatlerid houses along the shore, a few I'ishing boats in the ileep land-locked 
harbour. The life of to-day has not stir enough to disturb whatever realization of the 
past his imagination has power to frame. It seems strange to think that on that low 
point to the Southwest was once a fortress reputed im])regnal)le, a town the trade of 
which was of lirst importance, that, although it was the key to the I'rench possessions 
in America, it was twice captured, and that after both x'ictories English cities and 
colonial towns were illuminated and thanksgiving services held in all their churches in 
gratitude for a crowning victory. 

But no camp-fires now twinkle in the shadow of the low hills, no ships of war are 



shut into the harbour. All is changed except the outline of sea and shore, and the 
beating of the surf which I'rench and British heard in the intervals of fight. Here, 
no less than at Quebec, a great stride onward was made by British prowess. Should 
not some memorial be raised which would show that Canadians, living when these 


animosities are dead, are still mindful of the great deeds done on Canadian soil .'* 
There could be no titter site than the old burying ground of l.oiiisburg, where French 
and Englisli dust commingles in peace, and where the ashes rest of man)- a brave 
New Englander who fought and fell in the gigantic strife between two great races. 

The Island of Cape Breton is 100 miles long by 80 wide, and covers an area of 
2,000,000 acres. Nearly one-half consists of lakes, swamps, and lofty hills. The coast 
line is 275 miles long, and the centre of the island is occupietl by the Bras d'Or, which 
nearly divides the island into two. Indeed, St. Peter's Canal has effected the division. 
In 1765 Cipe Breton was annexed to Nova Scotia. Twenty years later it was made a 
separate Province, and so continued till 1820, when it was again united to Nova 

The people of Arichat and vicinity are almost all French. The rest of the island 
is peopled main'- by Scottish Highlanders, who still cherish their ancestral Gaelic, and 



cling to the ways of the Highhmds and Islands. France and Scotland were friends 
three hundred years aj^o, and for many centiirii-s before. The old allies meet in many 
of our colonies, and rart.'ly fail to fraternize. 

The fertile valley of Mahou, with its adjacent j^lens and its tlankintr hills, pays 
tribute to the harbour of Port Mood, tlu- only port of safety on the west coast of 
Cape Breton north of the Strait of Canso. A small island lies half a mile off the 
harbour, and often a strong current rushes Ix'tween it and the mainland. "The oldest 
inhabitant" rtmiembers wIkmi tiiis pass;>i;(,' was onlv a few yartls wide ami was easily 
fordable. Hut the woods were cleared away and the sea made a cl(;an Ijreach over 
the little isthmus. A great gale came and ploughed up a deep channel, which has 
been widening these sixt\' years. 

Lake .\inslit! and Margaret- River are dear to the angler — rich in sea trout and 
salmon, and delightful to the lover of beautiful natural scenery. The soil is fertile. 
The forests, birch, beech, maple, antl tiie graceful witch-elm, cover the hills to their 
summits a thousand feet high. 1 he roads skirting the hills are like a\enues tiirough 
the finest par';.. \otl:,ing can ije more charming than these hills ami valleys, lakes 
and streams, whtMi clad in tiie gorgeous tints of autumn, or the living green of summer. 
I'rom Baddeck to St. .\nne's Bay, thence to Cape Xorth, over moor aiul mountain, 
through forests dim an;i si' nt. over morasses and drc-ary wast(!s, is a route becoming 
popular with th(; lovers oi adventure vhen mcjose and carii)0u are sought, or when the 
angler is anxious to vf-ntni;! beyond the beaten round. No ritle could l)e desired more 
beautiful or satisfying to the e\'e tiiar^ that arouml .St. Anne's Bay. This harbour is a 
possible competitor for the advantages of being the point where trains ami swift 
steamers shall meet to exchange mails and passengers when liie ".Short Route" siiall 
have been established. Great ships can lie so close to the lofty cliffs that water may 
be conveved into the ship by hose; from the rock\' bed of the torrent. The I'rench 
came here more than two hundred and fifty years ago, took possession of the bay, and 
gave it the name that still clings to it. ihe)- left it in fa\'our of Louisburg. 

Ingonish is a little secluded village hidden among the bolilest hill scenery of 
Maritime Canada. Cape .Smoky is clou(l-ca||)icl, while lower hills and the xalli'ys and 
shores are enjojing bright sunshine. l)et-|) ravines aiul dark gorges furrow the sides 
of the hills; and from commanding heights are gained ever varying views of the 
majestic sea. .St. Paul's Ishuul, the tlread of mariners, the scene of man\' a fearful 
wreck, stands some thirteen miles northeastward from Cape North. It is a mass of 
rock three miles long by one mile wide, e.xhibiting three peaks over 500 feet high — - 
the summit of a sunken mountain Thousands of lives have perishet! on this little spot, 
but Science, guided by Humanity, has now robbed the scene of nearly all its terrors. 

Numerous bays and headlands have their story to tell of b; ttle, of shipwreck, or 
wild adventure. Cape Breton itself, a low headland which gives its name to the whole 





island, rises darkly near Loiiisburg. There is a tradition that V'erazzano, the eminent 
Florentine discoverer, perished here with his crew at the hands of the Indians. He 



sailed into the Atlantic, from France, in 1525, and was never authentically heard of. 
Who knows but his bones moulder in Cape Breton ? British cxplort'rs came here before 
the close of the sixteenth century. In 1629 Lord Ochiltree, with sixty Scottish emi- 
grants, tried to found a colony ; but the French put a summary end to the enterprise. 
It was, however, a curious prelude to the great emigration of Highlanders in the nine- 
teenth century to which Cape Breton owes so much. 

Next to farming and fishing, coal mining is the most important industry in Cape 
Breton. The coal fields are even more extensive than those of No\a Scotia. Twelve 
collieries are in operation. Some of the mines yield the best coal yet found in 
America for domestic purposes. .Some are far away under the sea; some down in the 
heart of the hills. Coal mining commenceil in Cape Breton in 1785. Indeed, Boston 
Puritans were wont to warm themselves and boil their tea-kettles by means of Sydney 
coal long before the chests were emptied into Boston harbour. 

Have you ever been down in a mine? If not, a new sensation awaits you — an 
experience decidedly different from anything to be enjoyed or suffered on the face of 
mother earth and in the light of the sun. Cold, dark — darker than any midnight 
gloom — you may stand by a pillar a thousand yards away from daylight. The noise 
of pick and shovel afar off is ghostly and unearthlj'. Human voices are heard ; or 
there is the rumble of coal laden cars hastening to discharg(; their burden. Reminis- 
cences of Paradise Lost and tin; Inferno come unbidden and irresistibly. Glimmering 
lamps give needed light and no more. Figures moving about witli one big "e\c" in 
their foreheads, what are they but cyclopean giants? In the Albion Mines, in the 
Pictou coal field, there is proof enough that fires have been raging above and below 
for the past fourteen years. The long, dark, but well-aireil passages through which 
we wander are cool enough ; but a hint of smoke is a hint of fire, which is by no 
means welcome. 

By way of preparation, )ou might first visit a gold mine, which is seldom verj' 
deej). You may have to go far into the loneiy woods to reach the " Diggings," or 
they may happen to be near the Queen's highway, or lie close to the sounding sea. 
There are at pre.sent twenty-eight "Diggings" in Nova Scotia. Many have been tried 
and exhausted. Nobody knows how many are still to be discovered. Usually where 
the most precious of metals is to be found nothing else distracts your attention — 
nothing but the hard rock and the ice-like quartz — no fertile soil, no tempting oak 
or pine; no coal, no iron; nothing but barrenness and gold! An Indian stooping to 
drink at a brook is credited with the discovery of gold in Nova Scotia some twenty- 
five years ago. It was accident, of course, a shining speck, precious and yellow, in a 
piece of snow-white quartz. Then the " prospector" went out with hammer, pick, shovel, 
drill, and ; and he found numberless places where gold might, could, and should 
be. Only in a few places, however, has gold been found in really paying quantity. 



'i;5>&.7?^^ttWi-^:,1(|?i-- ^ 





k _*- 




A "U-ad" of quartz is found carefully weili^cd in between enormous masses of slate and 
quartzite. The veins, or " leads," are usualK niilUy white anil almost translucent, and 
they rani;e in thickness irom an inch to several fiiet L'nfortunately, you cannot 
dejiiMil upon them, for they are "faulty" and uncertain; and the best producer of this 
year may proxe barren and useless next \ear. The \\hitest (|uartx is not usually the 
richest in t;old. Miners |)refer what is grayish or lead(Mi in colour. Tlu-y often follow 
a "lead" of this sort from 100 to 250 feet. .Stamping mills are erected as near the 
pits as i)ractical)le, and they are run Ijy water jtower where it is available, and often by 
steam power. When jou api)roach a s^okl dii^'^ing the first indication of proximity is 
the ceaseless monotonous tluul, thud, thud of the stampiM's which do the work in 
the crusliini; mills. 

Since 1862 about half a million tons of (piartz have been crushed in Nova Scotia, 
yieldinjj over six and a half million dollars of ijold. Ei<,diteen himdrcd and ei^jhty- 
three was the most profitable year in proportion to the number of men enga,t>ed in the 
work, their earnin<^s amounting; to $2.84 each per day. The h'.r^est yield in any one 
vear was in 1867, when 27.314 ounces were obtained. The ounce is worth at least $18. 
No great fortunes are likely to be made in our gold mining; but it is now demon- 
strated that if ])rosecuted with due care it will pay. It is now ranked as one of our 
permanent industries. 

(iypsum is (piarricd in Hants County and exported to the United States, mainly 
for fertilizing purposes. The (piarries are vast and inexhaustible, (ireat de|)osits ol 
iron ore have been discovered in various sections of tiie countrN-, either in immediate 



continuity to the coal areas or witliin easy niacli of them. This collocation of miner- 
als seems to prophcs)- iinmistakalily tlu; future maniifacturinsif tijreatness of the country. 
Manj^anese, lead, silver, antimony, copper, iia\e Ix-en discovered in workable (piantities. 
But the miniuL,'' interest which overtops all tlu' rest in Xova Scotia, as well as in ("ape 
Breton, is that of coal. The capital invested in iIk; coal mines is nominally twelve 
million dollars. lor many years only one company, the ("icneral MiniiiL,'' .Association, 
was allowed to o])en mines in the Province — a Royal Duke havinj; a monopolv of all 
our hitlden wealth. This mono|)()ly was broken some twenty-six \ears a<;(). The result 
was a \ery ra|)i(l tlevelopment of coal miniii;^', attenileil in main' cases with lujavy 
pecuniary loss. l'"or a time there was proujress ; then came a tlismal relapse — a collapse, 
almost, the trade with the L'nited .States having- been totalK* desiroved. 15ut of late 
there is advance; aj^ain which bids fair to be perman(;nt. 

The carboniferous formation t)f Nova Scotia is about tifteen thousaml feet deep. 
The coal measures proper are about ten thousand feet. Our coal beds contain one 
hundred ami ninet\-six different species of trees and plants, I'lfty-four of which are 
peculiar to Nova Scotia. 

These vary in sizi; from the tree two feet in tliameter to the slender moss and 
invisible spore cases. Trees ordinarily contributed nothini;" to the coal beds except 




their barks and the firmer tissue of their leaves. Plants of all sizes contributed their 
cortical tissues. It will tax imagination to the utmost to realize the long ages taken in 
filling up these vast seams in the Pictou coal basin. The plants and trees that are 
compressed into these seams grew, flourished, died, decayed here. There was no gather- 
ing in of huge forests from distant localities to form these treasures ; where the tree 
fell it perished ; where the plant grew it was turned into coal — all that would remain 
of it. Very interesting fossils of the carboniferous ages are found associated with our 
coal beds. The footprints or the remains of reptiles, of snails, of spiders and other 
insects have been identified. The first trace of reptilian e.xistence in the coal period 
was found at Horton Bluff, Nova S. otia, by Sir William Logan. They used to know 
Hercules by his foot. Well, they made out the very likeness of this poor forlorn 
creature that travelled in the mud ilats of Horton millions of years ago. They have 
given us his portrait, and imparted on the creature a very hard name. The reptiles 
of the coal ages were fond of eating one another, though the world was young and 
no men lived to set a bad example ! 

Nova Scotia is proud of her mines and minerals, her gold, iron, and " black dia- 
monds," To develop her resources will be a work of time ; but the process is going 
on rapidly under the eye of the men of to-day. Coal and iron in abundance side by 
side mean that manufacturing industry must surely llourish here. New Glasgow, Acadia 
Mines, the Vale, Stellarton, Westville, North Sydney are places that can hardl\- fail to 
rise to importance as centres of enterprise and progress. The wealth .stored up in the 
bosom of the earth countless ages ago lies to-day at our feet to be utilized. 




T>RINCK ICnWARI) ISLAND, the pern of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, lies in the 
■*• bosom of tJK: great Acadian Hay, which extcMids southward from an imaginary 
line drawn from Cape North, Cape Hreton, to Point Miscou, at tiie entrance of Baie 
des Chaleurs. The "silver streak" of the Strait of Northumberland separates it from 
the mainland. I'rom all higher points of the Cobequid hills, and from the Mabou hills 
in Cape Breton, Prince Edward Island ma\' be seen on the distant \erge of the north- 
ern horizon, closing it in, lilce dim unvarying cloud. The silver streak is often dotted 
with ships; it is sometimes calm as a mirror, sometimes rough with curling billows; 
but the dun line be)ond changes not for storm or calm. To tiie spectator on the 
southern coast of tin; Island the Nova Scotian hills put on their best appearance, rising 
in proportions that satisfy the eye, and running in long dusky ranges from west to 
east. "The Island," as it is fondly called by its people, is about 130 miles long. Its 
area is 2,133 stpiare miles. No mountain, no stubborn hills nor barren wilderness, no 
stony land nigh unto cursing, no desolate heath — the Island boasts that hardly a 
square }ard of its surface is incapable of repaying the husbandman's toil. It has a fine 
friable loamy soil, rich and deep, and with the means of enriching it close at hand. 

853 » Copyrighl, 1884, by Belden Brothers. All righu reserved. 



rnrrRi'sori' c.wAn.i. 



The face of the country Is seemly uniliilatiiii,^, like a sea which has sobbed itself to rest, 
but has SOUK" remembrance still of a far-off storm. These low-lyinj,^ hills which rib the 
country from nortii to sonth are but tin; slumbering wa\es of that (iiiiet sea. Every- 
where you are near tlie salt water ami can enjoy its bracing' breath from strait or lonq;- 
armed creek or cove, or from the ij^reat (iuif itself. Thoui;;h the country is level and 
fertile, antl free from any too ol)trusi\e hills, it alxmnds in sprint^s ami streams of the 
purest water. W'lune a bubblini^' fountain is not near at hand, a well is sun; to bring 
up water without the neeil of tlij.j!Lj^ins4' many feet from the surfact;. Not Ireland itself 
is clad in richer i^reen than our lovely Island when summer has bestowed upon it its 
crown of glory. Tin; niddish soil cropping out here and there throws into sweeter 
relief the tender green of meadow ami lawn and rich lields which, at the right time, 
will wave with golden grain. In the six weeks from the midiUe of June till the enil 
of July it is a parailist- of venlure, bloom, foliage ; no stunted growth, no blight or 
mildew to brc'ak tlu,- toiling farmer's heart. 

In the central districts of the Island the forests still remain, presenting great 
breadths of dusky green, more or h.-ss thinned ijy the woodman's axe. The nobles 
of our northern clime, the birch, the maple, the beech, the pine, still rear their stately 
heads. But here as elsewhere the best, the grandest were the first victims! Enough 
remain to testify of the fine crop that nature raised long ago. There was a time when 
the maple was so abundant that the people made from its sap most of the sugar they 
required, but that time has vanished like the golden age. In some districts the forest 

PR INCH i:n\\\\i<n isi.Ayii 


is still ik'iis(! and dark, fit liiiliiij; for tlic poor pcrscciitcil remnant of the ^amc! once so 
abundant, I'lvcr)' year thf !)rra<ltlis of (ullivatcil land arc irn'rcasinj;, and tlu; old 
iloniinion of tiic woods is i)ccoinin,i,' more and more restricted. W'c have hardly opened 
»>iir cars to the er\-. "Spare that trcK! ! " 

There is a iraililion lo tlie cffcii that l'rin(c lulward Island was discovcreil bj' 
Cabot in i4()7 or i.H)S; but iliis is at least ddubifiil. That Jaii|iies C'artier must have 
seen the low-lyiniL^ coast as he sailed up the St. 1, aw rein e there neetl be no doubt. 
Mut th<' honour ol first namiu),; the and taking; possession of it for i*'rance must 
be acrordiil to C hamplain. " S r. John" was the name he i^aNc it, in honour of the 
da\' on which he disco\<'r<-d it, and .St. John it continued to be called for nearly two 
centuries. In 1780 the le;.^islaUire, acting on the su^jj^cstion of (iovirnor i'atterson, 
passiid an .\ct liiant^in^ the name to New Irel.ind. i'his was aniL^ril)' ilisallowed, on 
the grounil that the legislature should ha\c petitioned for the cIkuij^c instead of pass- 
ing a "presumptuous act," which was a breaih of "common ikxenc)." In 1 79S the 
iej^islatiire jjasseil an .\ct chan^inj^ the name to I'lince I'ldward, in honour of the Duke 
of Kent. This .Act was allowed in 1700, an<l the new name entered into popidar use 
in 1800. '\\\v Duke iu:\er \isiled the Islanil, but iliil all he could to promott; its 
material interests. 

The I'feiich cared for the Island chielly for its fisheries and fin^s. In 1663 all the 
islaiuls in the ("iidf of .St. Lawrence were granted to Captain Doublet, for the purpose 
of developinj,' a " <;nuid fishery." IIi- and his associates retainc.'d their j^rants till the 

From Cape Tormentine to Cape Traverse. 




I'R/Ai !•: h.DW •. / A'/> ISI. ,1 \/>. 


be^jinninjT of the cijjhU'onth century. I'lshermen came in tlic sprinjj and went away 
in the autumn — mere "birds of passajje." Trailers Ixju^dit tlir furs preparetl l)y tlie 
Indians, ^1^'"^ '" excluuij^e the spirits and clicaj) j^oods in wiiicli tlie Micmac soul 
delij^liteii. Hut jjood land was too plentiful on this side the sea to he eaj,'erl)' sought 
out for colonization. So our beautiful ^t:m of tlu; (iulf lay in unapprixiated solitude for 
centuries, while in the old world contendinjj armies fouj^ht for little patches of territory. 

In 171;, N<'wfoundland and Acadia were ceihul to Cireat Britain, !•' ranee still hold- 
inj,' Cap<' Hr(!t()n and "St. John." I'Vench settlers then came in considerable numbers, 
some Aiadians seekinjf refuj^e here under the flajj they loveil so well. Charlottetown 
was " I'ort la Joie," and it was garrisoned by a body of sixty I'Vench soldiers. It was 
one in the famous series of fortifuid posts- Louisburg, I'ort la Joie, Haie Verte, Bale 
Chaleurs, Tadousac, Ouebec. In 1752 the population numbered i,j?54; but the inrush 
of the Acadians raised it in 1758 to over 4,cxx) -sonn; say 10,000. The eventful year 
1763 saw the Island, in common with Cape Breton and other brench possessions, handed 
over finally to (ireat Britain. ".St. John" was valued because it lay in the pathway 
of comniiirce in tiie (iulf. It was at once annexed to Nova .Scotia, and its Acadian 
inhabitants bej^an to scatter, fearing 'me hand of the concjueror. .Some were removed; 
many, dreading forcible ejection, hastened to the mainland, and sought shelter in Lower 
Canada. The British garrisoned " Port la Joie," and steps were taken to show that 
the new-comers had come to stay. 

In 1764 the British Government sent out Captain Holland to make a survey of 
the Island, with a view to its colonization. The task was part of a vast plan for the 
survey of the far-extending British possessions on this continent, and it was being steadily 
carried out till the War of Independence inaugurated a new order of things, leaving it 
to other authorities to map out and survey one-half of North America! Captain Hol- 
land, with swift hand and keen eye, did his work in one twelvemonth, and did it so 
faithfully that to this day his landmarks, notes, observations, and descriptions are justly 
regarded as authoritative. 

John Stewart, in his " Account of Prince Edward Island." published in London 
eighty years ago, says that the Acadians on the Island instigated the Indians to deeds 
of barbarity against the English, and that when Lord Rollo's troops took possession 
they i'ound "a considerable number of English scalps hung up in the French Governor's 
house." Stewart adds that " it is not denied by the old Acadian French still living 
on the Island that they were very partial to this savage practice of their neighbours, 
with whom, indeed, they were very much assimilated in their manners and customs." 
Possibly these statements originated in an unconscious desire to justify the harsh treat- 
ment to which the Acadians were in some cases subjected. 

The survey of the Island having been completed. Lord Egmont came to the front 

with a project for its settlement, which to this day stands out as a marvellous anach- 




roiiism, an effort, grotcsqiir enough, but sincere aiul perse verintj, to transplant into 
America in the eighteenth century the feudalism of the fourteenth. I lad he succeeded, 
what an e.isy matter it vvoidd be for all America to step this way iov a living study 
of one of the most interesting phases of luiropian civilization. Three times in three 
successive years did the enthusiastic Egmont submit his plans and urge them upon the 
proper authorities with wonderful learning anil eloquence, and with prophecies of suc- 
cess that ir.iglu well kindle the cnihusiasai of even a monarch dl the house of 
Hanovi,-r. lb- was to be himself Lonl I'aiamount of the Island. Under him in 
regular gradation would he lords of llundreils, loi'ils of Manors, and b'n cholders. 
Counties, 'oaronies, capitals, towns, village's we'c all to be carefully mapped out. 
riieie was to be a great central castle, ami iuinor castles or blockhouses in the centre 
of every block of 'ight square miles. In case of daiiger, the alarm wouKl b'. given 
by the tiring of cannon from castle to castle, a signal which would enable every man 
on the Island t > be under arms in a quarter of an hour. When at last the Gov- 
ernment defniiteh- declined Lord I'lgmont's plan, the lioanl of Trade offered iiim a 
grant of a hundred thou.-and acres, which, howe\er, he wouKl not accept. (iiv him 
his feudal system or nothing. Surely Lord Lgmo'nt deserves to be remembered here 
and elsewhere. 

And now the British ("iO\ernmeiit took a step in respect to llu; " Island of .St. 
John," which proved a fruitful source of trouble for nearl\- a hundred \-ears. A "land 
question " was crtjated which perplexed politicians, economists, |)i'asants. and proprietors. 
The Island was di\ idtd into si\ty-se\en " lots," or s( ctions. .All these, exce]it three, 
were disposed of 1j\' lot in one da\'. The f -laml was then ann^'.xeil to Xova Scotia. 
The persons to whom the grant;; wen; maile had claims more or less real ami tangible 
upon the Britisii ("■ oxermiuMit. They reciivetl their "lots" on coutlition of settling 
one Luropean I'mtestant tor each tw;i hundred acres. If no such settlement were 
maile within ten years the lantl wouUl lapse to the Crown. They were also to pay 
certain (juit rents, by no means onc'rous. In 1 70S the proprietors, who neari\- all 
resided in lOngland, petiliomd that tin Island should ha\e a s(!parate go\-ernment. 
'Their prayers were granleil. ami a new Province was set up with its Ciovernoi', Legislative 
Council, and Cieneral .Assembly. The population at that dale consisted of l)ut .1 hun- 
dred and fifty families. Thirty years afterward, when an .iccurate census of the colon\' 
was taken, the number was foiuid to lie 4,.;72. W'.ilter Patterson, one of the proprietors, 
was apj)ointed Lieutenant-Governor. 'Th<: pr^.\isi(ui made for this representative of 
Majf'sty was modest enough to please th(! sternest of economists. When he arrived iii 
I "o it was estimated that the (piit rents to l.-e paid by the proprietors would \ i' Id 
^,'1,470. Of this amount liovernor Patterson was to reci;ive ^500; his Secretary and 
Registrar, /.' the Chief Justice, /,'2oc^; the Attorney-General, ;/,"ioo; the Church of 
England clergyman, ^"100. These ofticers might, perhaps, have lived sumptuously upon 

/>A'/A(/: l-.nw ARP ISI.AMK 


tlu'ir salarii's if those salaries liad l)een paiil ; hut tile ])r(ipriet()rs forijot all ar)OUt 
quit rents, as well as ahoiit their other oi)liL;atioiis, and lioxcrnoi', Chief Jusliee, and 

parson, all alike, had to ft;el 
the shar|) pinch ol want, and 
to seek relief in \va\s that 
wouKl hardl\ meet the ap- 
probation ol modern moral- 
ists. Ihe Hrilish 1 i '\crn- 
menl L;rani<'il ,{,,,.000 for a 
public liuildiuLi at L'h lotte- 

toAvn. This sum 
the CiONcrnor laid 
h a n il s upon in 
onler to rehevc 
pres(Mit distress. 
I hi.' Cio\crnment 
hail enjoined upon 
(lONcrnor Patter- 
son to " take es- 
pecial care that 
(lod AlmiLihl\ 


slu)nld lie di'soutiy and duly serxcd throughout the colon\," and they left him to steal 
a livini;' out ol a |iul)hc L;rant lor a public buildiuL;'. I'.itterson made a clean breast 
of it, showed the necessitous circumstances in which he was placed, su^^csted a plan 
for collecliuL; a revenue and refundini; the ^/,";,oco. and escapt'd censure. In 1773 a 
constitution modelled upon that of CinMt Mritain was oranled to the colony. In 
1770 two war vessels from the I'nitcd States m.ide a descent Ujion C'harlettetown and 
carried a\\a\' the le.idiui;' uu-n and man\ \aluables. Washiui^tiin rebuked the olticioiis 
prlvalee'-;: ami sent ba'k the ( iptives with all their propert\' tt> C'harlottetoun — a 
j;race'ful act of courtes\- nexcr foiLjotten in l'i'iiK:i' l''.dwai'<l Islai'd. 

And now bei^an the land troubles of the Island In sad earnest. No tpiit rents 
were paid, and scarcely an effort was made to bring new settlers by the absentee pro- 
prietors. The Legislature passed laws authorizing the sale of the forfeited lands. 



Governor Patterson devised this policy and Ijouj^dit lari^e tracts thus sold. Hut the 
Home Government, pressed by the proprietors, disallowed the Acts, and even ordered 
an Act to be repealed which had been several years on the statute books, and under 
which a lart^e area had been purchased. Due reparation was to be made to tin- pur- 
chasers. The repealing Act was drawn up in London and sent out to Governor Pat- 
terson to be submitted to the Legislature. I'oolishly enough he withheld the Act, and 
induced tiie Legislature to pass another Act dealing still more radically with the land 
question. This Act was disallowed. lie himself was recalled, and tiie Attorney 
General dismissed. Poor Patterson ditl not like to have his land speculations thus 
summarily marred. Governor Planning, of Nova Scotia, commissioned to relieve him, 
arrived at Charlottetown in \oveml)er ; but Patterson refused to give up his office, 
declared that he did not want, and could not accept, "leave of absence," and actually 
kept possession till next spring, when peremptory orders came from England informing 
Patterson that "His Majest\- has no farther occasion for your services as Governor of 
St. John." The i)oor felU)w had spent sixteen years on the Island, and hail done his 
duty fairly well. He went to luigland, lioping to be restored to the Ciovernorship, 
but was disap[)ointed, of course. 

His extensix'e property was sokl under the hard laws which he himself had devised, 
and lie dicil poor, disappoint(;il and heart-i)roken. 

Governors ;ui<l go\ernments came and went ; generations wen; born and buried, but 
the proprietors contiiiued as a whole to be utterly oblixious of their oljligations, and 
the tenants continued to agitate. Assemblies complained, petitionetl, memorialized, 
remonstrated, threaten(;d, prayed, Iiegged, swore, but all to little or no purpose. The 
proprietors had the ear of the lionv; (iovernmenl, antl thwarted every measure ema- 
nating from the tenantr)' and their fr-ends. Hut as population increased, and as popu- 
lar intluences made themselves felt ii. the GovcrnuHMit of luigland, ihe power of the 
pro|)rietors became less and less irr(!sistiblo, anil the Goxernmint became more and 
more ameiialjle to ri;ason. Some of the |)roprietors soid their land outright. Some 
spent money in encouraging im.nigration from the Highlands. A majority, 
however, clung tenaciously to what they jjossessed, e.xacting all they could, and paying 
out as little as possible. ' i i860, at the suggestion of tlu- proprietors, a Commission 
was appointed, which consisted of three members, Hon. Joseph Howe representing the 
tenantry. Colonel (iray representing the Hritlsh Government, and Hon. J. \V. Ritchie 
representing the proprietors. 'i"he Commissioners had power "'to enter into all the 
inquiries that may be necessary, and to decide upon th(! different ipiestions which may 
be brought before them." The Duke of Newcastle, tiien Colonial .Secretary, desirt.'d 
to be assured that the tenants would "accept a« binding the decision of x\\v. Commis- 
sioners, or a majority of them." The Commissioners did their work with signal ability. 
They recommended fhat the Imperial Government should guarantee a loan of one nun- 


86 1 

dred tlioiisanil poiiiuls, sii as to cnalilc iIk- Island riovcniment to buy out on favour- 
able; tcMMiis all the ijro|)ri<'tors, and to sell the land to tenants and other settlers. 
Three conclusions forced themselves upon the Commissioners: that the orijrinal cjrants 
were improvident and ouj^ht never to have been made ; that all the _i,n-ants were liable 


to forfeiture for breach of the ccnditions with respect to settlement, and mit^ht justly 
have been escheateil ; and that all tlu; (grants mit^ht have biu'n practically annulled b\- 
the enforcement of quit rents, and the huuls seized anil sold 1>\- the Crown without the 
slis^htest impeachment of its honoui', Mut the sovereign ha\in^ repeatedly conllrmed 
the original 'grants, it was impo>sil)le to treat the tjrantees otherwise than as the lawful 
possessors of tlu; soil. Landlords were to be compelled to sell any lands possessed by 
them over lifteen tiiousand acres, and the terms of sale were niinulel}' dctined. All 
arrears of rent bevond lhi-ee \ears preceding May : were to be wiped out. 

The decisions and r( (.onnnendations of the Commission wiM'e unanimous, anil were 
readily accepted by the Le<;islaliu-e of the Island, iuul by the tenantry interested; but 
the proprietors refused to be bound by them, and sheltered themselves behind ingen;ou.s 



technical objections. Tlu; Imperial Government would not entertain the proposal to 
ijiiarantee a loan. The question continueil unsettleil 
until the union of the Islanii witli Canada, when a 
sum of $8cx),ooo was placed at the service of the 
Island GovernnuMit for the purjiose of finally dis- 
posing' of tin; tiiMiculty, There is now no " land 
question" in tlic Province except that of cultivatinit*- 
the land to the <^reatest ailvantajfe. 

The i)roblem of i,ro\ernment is sometimes as 
|3erple\intj in small communities as in the largest. 
Prince Edward Islaiul iiad a succession of very com- 
petent Lieutenant-Governors. But more than one en- 

tered lipon his duties with ideas of high 
prerogatixc worthy of Charles I. Gov- 
ernor Smith, who "reigned" from 1S13 lill 
1824. interfered with the courts of justice; 
constituted an illegal court of escheat ; re- 
fused to receive an address from the As- 
sembly, though he had appointed an hour for its reception ; ordered the Assembly to 




adjourn from Dec. 15 to Jan. 5; sent his son-in-law to threaten tlie Ilonse with imme- 
diate dissohition — thi; said son-in-law shaking his fist at Mr. .SjjfaUer ; proroLiuetl the 
Assembly long before it had completed its business, becausi; the Assembly had impiis- 
oned the son-in-law for breaking the windows of Parliament I louse ; appoialed another 
son-in-law to the Legislative Council, though lu; was only town-major of Charlottetown ; 
appointed another man to the Council whf) had been dismissed from a cierksliip in 
a shop and wiio took to retailing spirits. A petition to tiie King for the Ciov- 
ernor's removal was a matter of course; Init tlie (ioxcrnor was e(|iiai to the occasion. 
He chargcnl the petitioners with gross libel and contempt of tlie Court of Chanc(!ry, 
and on tin- comi)Iaint of his son-in-law summoned them before himself as judge ! The 
committee in ciiarg(! of the petition was ordered into the custody of liie sergeant-at- 
arms. Their leading man, however, made his escape to No\a Scolia wuh the petition, 
proceeded to Hngland, told tiie true tale of misgovernment in tiie colon\', and ob- 
tained immediate redress, Governor Smith being promptl)- recalled. .Smitii had the 
firmest conviction that parliamentary government was a nuisance to be abated. I'rom 
1814 to i<Si7 no Assembly was summoned. The House which met in 1818 proveil 
refractory and was not called again till 1S20. Ciovernor Smitli hated Assemblies 
and had more joy in fighting them than in attempting to carry out their wishes. 

It was at Charlottetown, in 1864, that the project of a confederation of the IJritish 
North American Provinces took shape. The leading public men of Quebec and 
Ontario Lat that time Lower and Upper Canada] met at Ciuirlottetown, and joined 
there a Cenferenci; of the ALirilime Provinces discussing Maritime Union. The larger 
project easily eclipsed the lesser, and the larger Provinces united on July 1, 1H67. 
Prince Edward Island once and again refused to come into tiie union ; but on the ist 
of Julv, 1873, siie, too, cast in her lot with the other Provinces. 

Cobbett wrote of Prince Edward Island as ''a rascally heap of sand, rock, and 
swamp, in the horrible Gulf of St. Lawrence," "a lump of worthlessness that bears 
nothing but potatoes." Cobbett was not the first writer nor the last that ignorantly 
maligned our fair inheritance. Each of the Provinces in its turn has hatl tiie finger 
of scorn pointed at it, and the tongue of detraction wagged against il ; but eacii and 
all must continue \.o prosper while a genial sun smiles on a fertile soil tilled by the 
hands of freemen. 

Prince Edward Island was among the earliest of the colonies to establish a system 
of public education, which has been carried on with increasing efficiency ; and the 
result is that tlie little Province has sent forth into the workl more than its proportion 
of men of mark and learning. The people are sober, religious, and industrious. \'ery 
large crops of oats and potatoes are raised for e.xport, as well as for home use. Of 
late years the fertility of the soil has been largely increased by tlie application of 
"mussel-mud," raised from vast deposits of decomposed shell fish found in "blue inlets 


PIC 71 ■r/usocp: c .ix.m.'L 


and tlu'ir crystal creeks" close liy the sliore. The " iniul " is raised tliroii^li the ice in 
the leisure months of winter, and carried in ■ leiis to the tields, when scarcely any 
otl'.er kind of farm work can lie attended to. The inrmanent industry of the Island 
is a_t;riculture ; ijiit shi|)-l)iiililini^' has jjeen prosecuted with success. No better fisiiing 
grounds are to lie fouinl in America than the northern coast ; and the summer hori/on 
is dotted with the sails of fishint; craft. The people of the Island ha\c not engaged 
in fishing to the extent that one wouKl expect ; but they are turning their attention to 
this industry with increasing success. American fishing craft can at times be counted 
by the score; in the blue distance. Once in twenty years or so mighty storms swt^ep 
the Gulf ot St. Lawrtiuce and carry terrible destruction to thi; fishing vessels near the 

coast. The most memorable of 
•»» r.—,.- — -^- — —^- •i^^^ w?'^ ••••<■*%■•' these storms was that of October 

, J I'Tfflr^i-M; 3d and 4th. 1S53, when 72 Ameri- 

IVmSiimfc can vessels were flung ashore on 

the north coast of the Island. A 
similar storm burst sucklenly upon 
the coast in .\ugust, iSj;, and was 
almost equally destructive. 

Charlottetown is beautifully situ- 
ated on the north siile of Hills- 
borough River. The harbour is 
safe whatever winil ma\' blow ; and 
the town slopes gently upward as 
we proceeil inland. Its stri'cts are 
wiile. and at some seasons ex- 
tremel)' bus\'. It has handsome 
chuiches. two or three colleges, a 
conxent and main delightfully situ- 
ated private dwellings. The sub- 
urbs are charming with gardens 
and groves of evergreens, with 
shady avenues opening out upon 
fertile fields, green or golden in 
their time. The city has a popu- 
lation of over, and is steadih' 
growing. It was founded in 1768, but the beauty and quiet of the harbour had 
attracted attention many years before this period. A serious disadvantage to the 
Island capital is that for four months in the year — perhaps for five months it is ice- 
bound. It is the railway centre of the Province, and in the earh' summer and late 


autumn is the scene of jjreat commercial activ.ity. 


There are clelij^rlitfii! drives ami 
\vall<s ill tlie vicinity. 

I'roni Charlotletown to 
Gcorj^ctown the country is ex- 
ceptionalij' fertile and largely 
under culti\ati()n. '\\\v road 
for some distance follows the 
Hillsboroujj^h River, a lonjj 
sinuous arm of the sea. It 
passes throuL^h \illa_!j;(;s, each 
resembling the other, and all 
presentins^r the ideal of pastor- 
al peace anil seclusion. The 
heail of the river is within 
a mile and a iialf of 'I'raca- 
die Harbour, on the north 
side of tile Island. It was 
at this old portage that the 
hrench t"inall\ siu'rendered the 

e island to tlu' British. 


'£ ("leorLCetown is beautifull)' 

3 situaleii amid the slo|)c:s of 
vehi.'t llelds on a peninsula 
bi't\ve(!n llu' Cardi;;an and 
Brudenelle ri\ers. The har- 
bour is the most sc;cure on 
tile Island, and is tiu^ last to 
succumli to the touch of the 
ice-kim;-. .Steamers ply be- 
tween tliis port and I'ictou 
and the Maydalen Islands. 

.Summerside is usually the 
point at which toiuMsts in the 
summer time touch tile Isl- 
and. It is next to Char- 
lottetown in wealth and po- 
pulation. .\n is'ct off the 
harbour is the site of the 
" Island Park Hotel," a de- 






lightful spot with many attractions for the traveller. Siimmerside is the headquarters 
of the trade in Bedeque oysters. 

There is no more salubrious summer resort in all America than Prince lulwurd 
Island. The sea-'jaiiiin<j is delijjhtful ; for the waves come in curvinjr, laughinj^. danc- 
ing over long reaches of shining sands warmed by tin; summer sun. The sea-breeze is 
never far away ; and if \ou go to the nortliern coast you may enjoy it in its coolest jier- 
fection when the waves are eilged with angry foam, '• white as the jjiller lip of hate." 
The scenery is never grand except wiien great gales beat upon the exi)Osed coast, 
hurling the waters of the Cjulf upon the trembling land ; but though not grand or sub- 
lime, it is ever lovely, ever suggestive of comfort, peace, and plent\' ; a smiling heaven 
and a happy people. In the depths of winter there is isolation ; but even then there 
are compensations. What more exhilarating than sports on the ringing ice of those 
rivers and harbours ! And the sleighing never fails. The silver thaw is seen here in 
a degree of perfection never, perhaps, attained elsewhere. Often, in one night, the grim 
dull forests are transferred into groves of crystal, each branch and twig bending grace- 
fully under 'ts brilliant burden. Ice half an incii thick ferms on the boughs. The 
sun shines upon the scene and it becomes indescribably brilliant. The coasts of 1'. E. 
Island are almost entirely frei; from the fog which is so troublesome on the Atlantic 
coast of No\a Scotia and Cape Breton. Sometimes it hangs on the far off horizon 
eastwanl, as if longing for orders, usuallj' refused, to invade tiiese pleasant shores. 

We have saiil that Prince Edward Islanil is isolated ; but tliere is coming and 
going in the very iieart of winter. The telegraph Hashes its ilaiiy messages iindei- 
the waters of the Strait am! the ice-boat carries passengers and mails from shore 
to shore. It is said that the Indian name for the Island is (or was) Jipayguit, 
" Anchored on tiie Wave." The point of crossing by ice-boat is from Cape Traverse 
in 1'. I{. I., to Cai)e Tormentine in New Brunswick, where the distance is about nine 
miles. The standard ice-boat is i8 feet long, 5 feet wide, anil 2 feet 2 inches deep. 
Its frame is oaken ; it is planked with cedar, and the planks are covered with tin. It 
has a double keel which serves for runners, and four leather straps are attached to 
each side. The crews are hardy, powerful, and courageous men, equally ready to pull 
or row, or swim if need should arise. There is often open water half the distance, 
and this is regarded as the easiest crossing. The passage usually occupies three and 
a half hours. Occasionally when the ice is bad and the tide strong in the wrong di- 
rection the struggle continues for nine or ten hours. Only once in thirty years has a 
serious accident occurred. In 1855 a violent snow-storm swept down suddenly on the 
boat. The men lost their way. After battling with the fury of the elements from 
Saturday till Tuesday, they finally landed about forty miles out of their course, one 
of the passengers having meanwhile perished. 

We advise our readers to visit tliis garden of the Sea Provinces in summer. 



/^N the Atlantic, tlic Dominion counts the four 
^-^ Maritime Provinces of Nova Scotia, New 
liriinswick, Prince luiwanl Island, ami (_)iiel)ec, 
thoiijfh only the first two possess harbours open al 
the Ncar round. Our Pacific 
coast is included in onr Prov- 
ince, which is l)oth island and 
mainland. But British Colum- 
bia is so vast in extent, so 
rich .in material resources, of 
the sea, the forest antl the 
mine, and in scenery — chielly 
of <;rand, i^doomy, and savajje 
types — and is so little known 



» Copyright, 188.), by Belden Brothers All rights reserved. 













IL25 III 1.4 




















4- '5» 







WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 

(7:6) 872-4503 





Pacific Railwa)' will enable tourists ami artists to explore its seas of mountains, with 
their deep gortjes and intervening plateaus, from the summit of the main chain of the 
Rockies to the Pacific coast. Then, too, the advantages of its commanding geograph- 
ical position will be full)- appreciated by commerce, and through tlu; ports of Escjui- 
malt, Victoria, New Westminster, and I'ort Moody will llow the enriching currents of 
inter-continental trade. 

In the sixteenth centur), bold British navigators like Drake and Cavendish, laugh- 
ing to scorn Papal Bulls that assigned the New World to Spr.'i and Portugal, 
sailed into the Pacific by the Straits of Magellan, plundered Spanis. galleons, but 
sought in vain for the long dreamed of passage back again into t!ie Atlantic. Where 
they failed, Apostolos Valerianos better known as Juan de P'uca, a (Ireek in the em- 
ploy of the Viceroy of Mexico, claimed to have succeeded in 1592. He may have 
entered, through the straits now known Ijy his name, into Puget Sound, and then, 
having sailed up through the Straits of Georgia and ve-entered the ocean, imagined 
that he had discovered the northwest passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Or 
he may have only heard from an Indian of those great interior waters and have built 
up a plausible story "touching the strait of sea commonly called Pretium Anianum, in 
the South Sea, through the northwest passage of Meta Incognita." At any rate, no 
one entered them for many a long ilay afterward; and in 1778 Captain Cook, sailing 
along the coast which Drake had called New Albion two centuries previously, and 
finding no entrance, tells us — with a bluntness excusable in an English sailor refer- 
ring to a Greek — that the story was a myth, even so far as the alleged Strait of I-'uca 
was concerned. " We saw," he says, • a small opening, which flattered us with the 
hopes of finding a harbour. These hojjes lessened as we drew near ; and at last we 
had some reason to think that the opening was closed by low land. On this account 
I called the point of land to the north of it Cape Plattery -. . . . It is in this very 
latitude where we now were that geographers have placed the pretended Strait of 
Juan de Puca. But we saw nothing lik(; it ; nor is there the least probability that 
ever any sach thing existed I" Continuing his course to the north, Cook entered an 
inlet which he named King George's Sound, but which was called Nootka by the 
natives ; and Nootka it is to this day. Although unnecessarily positive about what he 
did not see, and representing on his charts Nootka and the whole of Vancouver's 
Island as part of the mainland. Captain Cook was most accurate in his observations — 
r uitical, astronomical, geographical ; and his notes on the fur-bearing animals, the 
fish, the forests, and other productions of the country, as well as regarding the natives, 
are still interesting reading. Their publication led to trade springing up between this 
northwest coast and China. In 1 7S6 linglish merchants residing in the East Indies 
purchased two vessels and placed them under the command of John Meares, Lieuten- 
ant in His Majesty's navy, with instructions to do what he could to develop a trade 



in furs, ginsencc, and other products of Nootka and the adjoining coast. Meares did 
his work well. Purchasing ground from the chief of Nootka, he erected a breastwork 
and house or factor)- ; built, with the aid of Chinese carpenters, a little ship of forty 
or fifty tons, and launched her into the Sound, to the great delight of the natives, and 
started what promised to be a profitable business. Hut in the eyes of Spain all this 
was poaching ; and in 1 789 Spanish siiijis of war came to Nootka, seized the Englisii 
vessels, and took possession of the [jort. Captain Meares brought the matter before 
the House of Commons by petition, and war was very likely to have been die result, 
for in those days England had not " the craven fear of being great." The 
Government, however, agreed to make restitution, and it was even thought proper that 
an officer should be sent to Nootka to receive back in form the territory and factories 
or other buildings. Captain George Vancouver was selected for the purpose. He 
was also instructed to make a survey of the coast from 30° north latitude, and to 
ascertain the existence of any navigable communication between the Northern Pacific 
and the Northern Atlantic oceans. It had been reported in Britain that in 1789 an 
American vessel, the sloop Washington, had found the Strait of Fuca, had entered it, 
and had "come out again to the northward of Nootka." Captain Vancouver was, 
therefore, instructed to examine; "the supposed Straits of Juan de I'uca, said to be 
situated between 48° and 49° north latitudi;," and their Lordships of the Admiralty 
added, with a wisdom deciilcdly greater than their knowledge of the American conti- 
nent, "The discovery of a near cTmmunication between any such sea or strait and 
any river running into or from the Lake of the Woods would be particularly useful !" 

On his voyage up the coast Vancouver, b)' an odd coincidence!, fell in with the 
gentleman who had commanded the sloop Washington, and learned from him that he 
had penetrated the .Straits of I'uca for only fifty miles. X'ancouver was Captain of the 
Discovery, sloop of war, and the Chatham, armed tender. His Lieutenants were Puget, 
Mudge, and Baker. The Chatham was under Lient(;nants Hroughton, Hanson, and 
Johnstone. A glance at the map to day shows us the names of those gentlemen, 
immortalized by their voyage of discovery. 

Vancouver proceeded up the Straits of Fuca, landing at ilifferent points on the south 
coast. H(! was charmed everywhere with landscapes that " called to our remembrance 
certain delightfid and beloved situations in old England." On June 4, 1792, he went on 
shore, and, " pursuing the usual formalities which are generally observed on such occa- 
sions, ami uniler tlie discharge of a royal salute from the vessels, took possession of the 
coast." Going north, he honoured the interior .sea with the name of the Gulf of 
Georgia, after His Majesty, and Hurrard's Canal, our railway terminus, after Sir Harry 
Burrard of the navy. Coming out by Charlotte Sound into the ocean, he made for 
Nootka, and there "found riding His Catholic Majesty's brig, the Active, bearing the 
broad pennant of Seflor Don Juan Francisco de la Bodega y Quadra, commandant of 




the marine estal)llshment of St. lilas and California." Quadra received the Enj^dish 
witii jn-eat courtesy, I)Ut was williuL;' to ijive up only the spot of t;roniul on w iiicii j\Ir. 
Meares' Iioust' had been situated. The rii;hts of .Spain to island and mainland he 
coiisidcreil Ijcyotul dispute. \'ancou\i.'r, with ('([u.-d politeness and firmness, pointeil out 
tiiat .San I'rancisco was the northernmost settlement occupied hy the subjects of Hi.s 
Catholic iMajesty in April, 1 7S9, and, therefore, that according; to the ai^recment of tlie 
Coiut of -Spain (;xclusive rights could not be claimed beyond that port. The whole 
matter iuid to be referred back to Knglnad and Spain for instruction.s. Vancouver went 
on witli his surveys; and when he returned to Nootka in i;94, learned to his great 
regret that Ouadra was dead. The island he called after himself and tlie courteous 
Spaniard ; but Quadra's share in the name was soon forgotten. 

Not tdl 1S